Georgia (ON INDEFINITE HIATUS)
by ellesmer.joe3
Summary: Negan meets someone who thinks too much like him. (AKA when Negan finds out that he wasn't the only one ingenious enough to wrap the end of a baseball bat with barbed wire, and everything else that happens afterwards.)
1. Georgia

**GODDAMN I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. I know Negan is a bad guy and all - AND HE KILLED GLENN - but boy do I have a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome. I mean, who doesn't love a good bad guy?**

 **Anyway, the idea for this chapter just came to me a few days ago, and I got to writing it as fast as possible so I wouldn't lose the inspiration. This being said, please forgive any writing mistakes you might see. I hope Negan isn't too OOC here, because shit he is really hard to write. Kudos to those who can perfectly portray him in fanfiction!**

 **Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Negan propped Lucille over his shoulder. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he sauntered out of the compound, Dwight trailing behind him. One of Lucille's claws bit into the scarf around his neck. He didn't mind.

He had been looking over Sanctuary's records when Simon radioed him, said that they'd caught a woman, a straggler, trying to sneak into Sanctuary. Under different circumstances, Negan wouldn't have given a shit whether they found a naked guy in the woods. They'd bring anyone and everyone _to_ him either way. But Simon had mentioned a very interesting piece of evidence that had come with the straggler they'd caught, and it had been enough to bring Negan outside.

Simon had her strawberry blonde hair in his fist. He had forced her to her knees right in front of the main entrance of the factory. The fence rattled behind them as walkers gripped the chain links with soggy, bloody hands. The noise carried all throughout the courtyard, resulting in a very grim atmosphere.

Nevertheless, Negan managed a sardonic grin. "Well, well, well," he said. "What the fuck do we have here?"

Simon didn't answer. He knew that Negan knew, and Negan walked towards the girl like a lion stalking its prey. When he was standing directly in front of her so she was practically staring down at his feet, he brought Lucille down and beneath her chin, tilting her head up.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he remarked. And it was true. Beneath all the blood, sweat and grime was a neatly-shaped nose, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Not delicate-looking, but that was the last thing Negan was expecting. Simon had found her alone. And weak people wouldn't have survived alone.

One of Lucille's barbs dug into the soft skin of her throat, drawing blood. She didn't flinch. Negan looked down at her tawny, dark eyes, and he grinned. He was going to enjoy this very much.

He removed Lucille from under her chin and swung the bat back over his shoulder. "Simon here tells me that you were trying to sneak over our fence. Killed one of my men doing so too. You must have been either mighty fucking desperate or mighty fucking stupid to do something like that. Now, you don't strike me as stupid, doll, so let's say you were fucking desperate."

"You could say that." She shrugged in a very intimidated manner, and Negan grinned.

"So she does speak!"

And she had a husky voice, either from dehydration or that was just the way she naturally sounded, but she sounded fucking _hot_. He could imagine her voice saying other things, of a subject very _very_ different from what they were talking about – dirty things.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Clearing his throat, he began circling her, making sure to keep his strides long and purposeful so as to keep her on her toes. She was so fucking tense.

"If you were looking for a place to stay, sweetheart, you could have just knocked. I mean, we don't resort to killing unless we absolutely fucking need to." He placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt when she turned her head and fixed him with a disbelieving glare. "You don't believe me?"

Her eyes flickered to Lucille, and his smile only widened.

"Oh, sorry hon', where the fuck are my manners?" Taking Lucille into both hands, he stroked the smooth wood. "This is my girl Lucille. Ain't she a beauty?" He thrust the bat closer to her face, the end only an inch from her nose. "Go on, tell her."

She just scoffed and turned her head away. "You're fucking crazy."

He tried not to be too angry. She didn't know better than to be scared yet. But she would.

"Better be careful, doll," he said, lowering his voice as he dug the barbed wire into her throat again. "Lucille ain't thirsty now, but she can fucking bite. You fucking see?"

Blood dripped down her neck and soaked into the neckline of her tattered shirt. She nodded, and Negan pulled Lucille away. "My men tell me they found you with a bike. A fucking bike. And not even a motorcycle. It was a fucking _high schooler's_ bike. Davey, let me fucking see that."

He motioned with his free hand. Davey stepped forward, dragging a dark blue mountain bike with him. There were brown spots on its metal bits that could either have been rust or dried blood. Negan couldn't bring himself to care.

"You mind explaining to us why you brought a fucking bike with you in the middle of the goddamned apocalypse?"

She shrugged. "Finding gas is too much of a hassle. It's just as good as a car – it can get me places. Plus, it's more quiet."

Negan scoffed. "Yeah, you won't be saying that when you get fucking surrounded by the dead, will you?" She just glared. He decided to further pique her anger; he pointed at the mountain bike. "You see that piece of shit? It's _our_ piece of shit now. Do you understand?"

Negan had gotten used to "if-looks-could-kill" types of situations, but he'd be lying if he said that her glare didn't tickle his balls. It had been a while since he'd been presented with a new challenge, a new toy to break. But he had a feeling that she would become something much more than just a toy.

"Are you going to kill me now?" she said, right before turning her head and spitting at the dirt beside Dwight's feet. Negan raised his eyebrows when he saw blood mingling with her spittle, and turned his gaze to his men.

"Who hit her?" he demanded. One of them, Shaw, stepped up and raised his chin, almost defiantly. "Why?"

"She wouldn't come easy," Shaw explained. "It was the only way to get her to stop kicking. Would have clawed my eyes out if I didn't do it."

Negan regarded him with cold eyes. "We'll talk about this later." Meanwhile, the girl was staring at him with more confusion than anger. It was a pleasant change. Negan smirked, explained, "We're not monsters here, doll. You were desperate. I get that."

Fury sparked in her eyes again, and he sighed. "Wanna tell me your name?"

Nothing. Her glare remained intact. "Man, she's got bigger balls than you, Davey... Fine, I'll go first," said Negan, smirking appreciatively. "Hi. I'm Negan. And you are?"

"Lucy," she replied quickly. Too quickly.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan twirled Lucille in his hand. Her gaze flickered to the bat, and fear flashed across her eyes. "Don't play games with me, sweetheart. Lucille doesn't like being provoked. Now let me ask again: what's your name?"

She took in a shaky breath. She looked vulnerable for the first time since he'd seen her. In a quiet voice, she said, "Georgia."

Negan grinned. "Well, we're not in Georgia anymore, are – What the fuck is that?"

Georgia's head whipped around, following his line of sight. Negan's nostrils flared. They all probably thought that he was pissed, but truth be told he was just fucking surprised. In fact, he couldn't believe his fucking eyes. Slowly, he approached one of his men, Vlad, who was holding the object that had so quickly caught Negan's attention. Negan took it from him, practically shoving him away.

"Where the fuck did you get this?" Negan demanded.

"It was with her when she snuck over the fence," Vlad said.

Negan looked down at the object in his hand. It was a bat. Not too different from Lucille, but whereas Negan owned a Lousville Slugger ash bat, Georgia's was Rawling's maple. The fact that Georgia carried a bat around wouldn't have surprised him, but she had wrapped it with barbed wire as well. She and him could be more the same than he'd once thought.

"You made this, sweetheart?" Negan was using his no-nonsense voice. Georgia nodded. "Hm."

Wordlessly, he strode past his men and grabbed the girl's elbow, pulling her to her feet and dragging her away from the compound. She struggled, she damn well tried, but Negan wanted something from her and he was hell-bound on getting it. He gripped the two bats loosely in one hand, using the other to lead her to their one and only RV.

"Get in, doll," he ground out. "Simon! Open the fucking gate! Georgia and I are going for a little ride."

She continued struggling, pounding at his chest. She was stronger than she looked. Negan gave her a rough shake and forced her to look at him. "I ain't gonna hurt you, doll, but you better start working with me here or there'll be hell to pay."

She stared at him for a moment longer before she must have realized that there was no way out. A burst of male pride erupted in his chest when she nodded and reluctantly got into the passenger seat. Negan followed soon after, laying the two lethal bats on his lap and then starting the RV.

The gates were opened and Negan pulled away from the compound. Soon, the bustling noise that came with the factory was long behind them. Tense silence filled the air. Negan could feel the fear radiating off the girl beside him, but there was anger too. He smiled and tapped the steering wheel, whistling a tune.

"Where are we going?" Georgia asked.

Negan directed his smile at her. "Since when'd you have this motherfucker?" He peeled a hand off the steering wheel to pick up her bat, examining it quickly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Didn't want to, so now you can answer mine."

He sensed more than saw her eye roll, and he grinned.

"About a year ago I got trapped in this sports store," she said. "The dead were closing in. It was the closest weapon I could find. I had to fight my way through."

Her voice and the fact that she had fucking survived being cornered was doing things to his body that she probably shouldn't know about. He cleared his throat. "And the barbed wire?"

"That came a few weeks later. Saw it just lying there, thought it wouldn't hurt to reinforce my weapon a bit."

"Resourceful... I like that." He nodded. "You got a fucking name for it?"

She looked at him like he was crazy, and she probably thought he was. "What makes you think it needs a name?"

"Aw come on, sweetheart. Everyone's lost something. A fucking dog maybe - Lucky? Is that what it's fucking called?"

"Is that why you named your bat Lucille? That's who you lost?" She tilted her head. "Was she your wife?"

Well, that was a turn-off. Sighing, Negan pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans. He pointed it at her head and turned the safety off; made sure she realized the severity of her situation. "Careful, doll," he said lowly. "Just because I like you doesn't mean I won't kill you if you piss me off."

To his utmost surprise, she just scoffed and turned her head to look out the window. _Shit,_ he thought, biting back a grin as he stowed away his gun. She needed to know who was in charge, but fuck if her attitude didn't turn him right back on.

Several minutes passed before she broke the silence.

"Milo."

"What?"

"Milo," she repeated. "I had a younger brother. His name was Milo. He died during the first few weeks. He had gotten together with a few of his friends from college, they were surviving. I had just reunited with him when… when the herd came and killed them all." A pause. "He's who I lost."

Negan pursed his lips. "You didn't have to fucking tell me that, sweetheart."

"I know."

"If you think I'm gonna tell you my whole fucking life story just because you told me yours, you're dead wrong."

"I know."

He looked at her, then – enough to see how much telling that story had meant to her. She was baring her fucking soul to him and they had just fucking met and he didn't know what to fucking do next.

He cleared his throat. "Lucille was my wife. Before all this."

Georgia was quiet for a while. He could feel her staring. Then she just said, "Okay."

 _Well isn't this goddamn awkward._ "You know, you probably shouldn't name the bat anything after all." He gave her a meaningful glance. " _Milo_ wouldn't be a good name for a motherfucking badass killing machine."

She laughed, and he seized up a bit. Her laugh was loud, wild, but he should have expected it. She didn't look like the typical gal. She was fierce. She had been carrying a fucking bat wrapped in barbed wire for nearly a year.

She could be an asset to the Sanctuary.

Negan pulled the car to a stop. They had arrived at the perfect place, and it was time for Georgia to prove just how much she was worth. She was looking at him inquisitively, and he nodded over his shoulder. "Get in the back."

She did as he said and he followed behind her, staring a bit too long at her ass. When she turned to look at him, he was grinning. But he sobered up as soon as he handed her the maple bat. She took it without question, if not a bit doubtful at his motives.

"I'm giving this to you with utmost confidence that you won't bash my head in, doll. Don't do anything stupid. I still own your ass." Using his own bat, he pointed at the door to the RV. "Now, there's a bunch of roamers out there, and I need 'em cleared."

"And you expect me to help you?" She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I won't just leave you for dead?"

"Because you'll die fucking trying."

She looked even more confused than before. Negan threw her another condescending grin before opening the door, grabbing her arm, and shoving her outside. He had the door sealed shut before she had even picked herself up from the ground.

The snarls of the roamers reached his ears. Licking his lips, Negan pulled the blinds up and looked out the window, just as Georgia pounded her fist against the tempered glass. The roamers were stumbling towards her, desperate for fresh meat.

"You fucking bastard!" she yelled.

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." He raised Lucille and pointed behind her. "You've got bigger shit to deal with."

The first roamer descended upon her, grabbing her shoulder. She cursed and elbowed the roamer, forcing it back so she could finish it off with her bat.

She attacked them non-stop after that, punching and twisting to evade their teeth. She was absolutely lethal with her weapon, maybe even more so than Negan. She was thin, but he could see the strength in her limbs, the utter surety with which she swung her bat. Her forehead was creased, teeth bared with the exertion that her movements so required.

Negan watched her form, fluid and graceful and deadly. He felt himself grow hard at the thought of having her all to himself.

Georgia finally stumbled, too exhausted to keep her footing. There was still a considerable amount of roamers coming at her, and Negan decided that he'd seen enough. Whistling a tune, he got his gun out and stepped out of the RV.

One roamer had gotten close to Georgia. Too fucking close. Negan took aim and shot it in the head, taking a moment to watch it fall beside her before dispatching with the rest of the small herd. With a gun, he got rid of them quick. By the time he was done he had expected Georgia to be up on her feet trying to kill him, but she wasn't.

She was still on the ground, legs folded beneath her and arms stretched in front of her. Her bat lay by her side, bloody with bits of rotten flesh clinging to its barbs. She was panting like she had run five miles, which she practically had; Negan had left her to fight off the dead _alone_ and _with a bat_ for nearly ten minutes.

Negan couldn't get the picture of her out of his head: bat in hand, fending off a clearing of roamers by herself. The way her muscles stretched and contracted every time she wound up for a hit. The fierce look on her face.

That was all gone now. She was exhausted, but she still managed to surprise him. He had bent down to help her up when she raised her head. Her eyes didn't hold the familiar righteous anger he'd been expecting; instead, there was a glint of relief there, even a bit of gratefulness.

His eyebrows rose up his forehead. _Looks like someone fucking needed the de-stressing._

"Doll," he said, reaching down to stroke her chin. "I think you and I are gonna get along really fucking nicely."

* * *

 **R and R please!**

 **P.S. The official "fuck" count is 39. ;)**


	2. Savior

**Well damn. "Georgia" was supposed to be a stand-alone oneshot, but Negan just gives me so many feelings that I couldn't help but to write another. There will probably be more chapters to come, but updates will be sporadic. I have a shitload on my plate, and I have to divide my inspiration with four stories. Soooooo enjoy this update while you can, I guess. x'D**

 **Chapters will range from being Negan-centric to Georgia-centric.**

 **This one is Georgia-centric. Possible trigger warning? Yeah, be careful.**

* * *

Georgia didn't like Shaw. The first time they had met, she'd thought he was going to kill her for sneaking over the fence. She'd tried clawing his eyes out and he had retaliated by punching her square in the jaw. Negan had said that he'd given Shaw a good talking to; explained to her that he didn't tolerate violence against women.

Of all the things she thought Negan would be, never in a million years would she have him pegged as a feminist.

He gave her a job working in the facility. He had taken her bat away, and she sort of hated him for it. But then he said that if she worked hard enough, he would promote her to the more offensive forces of the Sanctuary and that she'd get the bat back in no time. So, work she did. Like an ant in a fucking colony.

Everyone seemed nice enough, although the fact that she used to lug around a bat identical to Negan's frightened some of them. The women in the factory didn't seem to know what to think of her, while the men held a grudging sort of respect. Including Negan – and excluding Shaw.

Shaw looked at Georgia like she was a piece of meat. She was getting sick of it.

She avoided him as best as she could, but he was everywhere. Whether she was working in the kitchen or mopping the floors or helping with the inventory, he was there every time she looked over her shoulder. She'd have thought she was becoming paranoid, but Negan had noticed it too.

Negan approached her one day, totally out of the blue, while she was working in the kitchen. He had Lucille over his shoulder and the usual cockiness in his stride. Everyone else got down on one knee, but Georgia refused to follow suit, just like always. She wouldn't have done it if she thought that Negan would hate her for it, which he didn't. If she didn't know any better, she'd think that her defiance turned him on a little bit.

"As you were," he barked over his shoulder. The people straightened up and continued bustling around, and Georgia turned back to her dicing. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

"Brussels with sausage," she muttered, though she grew still when he suddenly pulled a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine. Negan's front was practically pressing against her back, and she felt him chuckle.

"You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?"

He was horny. There was no other explanation. He wouldn't say that if he wasn't desperate to get laid. Georgia rolled her eyes.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: I will _not_ be one of your wives."

He walked up from behind her and came to lean against the counter. "I'm not asking you to be. Why can't we just fuck like rabbits so I can feel how tight your pussy is, just once?"

She thought she had gotten used to his straightforwardness and vulgarity, but she'd be lying if his rough voice didn't send a shot of warmth down between her legs. Despite herself, she managed to raise an eyebrow and scoff. "Like you wouldn't be coming back for seconds."

The loud laugh that erupted from his mouth took everyone by surprise. Georgia just grinned and ducked her head, pretending to be focused on her work and not entirely distracted by the glint that had appeared in his eyes.

"Touche, doll," he said. "Tou-fucking-che."

He stuck around for a while. They just talked. The people milling about gave them odd, sometimes horrified looks, but Georgia paid them no mind. She was more worried about adopting Negan's favoritism of the F-word. She had to admit that it was fun to say.

They had fallen into a comfortable silence when she felt someone watching her again. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Clearing her throat, she glanced over her shoulder to see that Shaw was walking around the dining area. His hair was slicked back even more than usual and he was whistling. His eyes drifted over to her again and Georgia couldn't help but to glare.

Of course, Negan noticed.

He leaned down to her height and followed her gaze. A sound that was half-surprised, half-amused came from the deeper parts of his throat. "You horny for him or something?"

Her eyes flashed. She reared back and fixed him with the most deadly serious look that she could muster. "Fuck no," she said. "Not in a million years."

The joking air that had built up around him came tumbling down. All of a sudden he was staring so intensely at her that she had to look away. "Is he bothering you, sweetheart?"

She wanted to say yes. She wanted Shaw kicked out of the compound so she wouldn't have to deal with his oily looks ever again. But her pride wouldn't allow her to show Negan any hint of weakness, so she just shook her head and kept dicing. "I can handle it," she said.

Negan took her word for it. He walked away.

A few days later, she regretted what she'd said so much.

She was working overtime in the kitchen, washing dishes, when Shaw came in. Everyone else had gone to bed and Georgia wanted nothing more than to just be able to walk out of there, but Shaw was blocking the doorway.

His eyes ran up and down her body, and a smirk grew on his lips. "Evening, sweet cheeks," he said. And he drawled his words just like Negan did, but it was amazing how different the both of them sounded. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I'm just finishing up here," she muttered in reply, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Oh, sorry, I meant shouldn't you be in _my_ bed?"

He was grinning when he sidled up from behind her and pressed her against the sink. She could feel that he was hard. Disgusted, Georgia whipped around and brought her hand up to slap him, but he caught her wrist as if he'd been expecting her to attack.

"Aw come on," he drawled. "We could have a blast together. You, me, between the sheets… what do you say? Don't you want to be fucked long and hard?"

"Not by you," she spat. "You're sick. You're fucking _sick_."

She tried pulling her hand back again to slap him, but this time he was the one who delivered the blow. Her vision dulled for a moment. Her cheek stung where he had hit her and then he was wrestling her to the floor. Something made of glass fell off the counter and crashed to the ground with her, breaking apart into shards.

She tried freeing her arms, and she did, but he had his legs on either side of her waist, and he was so much bigger than her. And then suddenly he had stopped trying to pin her arms, instead wrapping his large hand around her neck and _squeezing_.

"You know, the first time I saw you, holding that bat and looking dirty as shit, I thought about all the things we could get to do together." He smiled sickly sweet. "Negan likes you, but you ain't one of his wives, so he doesn't get to do shit to me when he finds out I fucked you. And you aren't going to tell him about this little misunderstanding, are you? You're gonna be a good girl for me, right?"

She couldn't breathe. Spots were dancing before her eyes. The attempts she made at pushing his hand away were feeble. She had resigned herself to death when she caught something glinting out of the corner of her eye.

Shaw kept talking. One of his hands had gone down to start unbuckling his belt. A tear slipped out of Georgia's eye as she stretched her arm out to the side and began wildly feeling around for one of the shards. Her hand scraped against the cool surface of a long, jagged piece just as Shaw was pulling his zipper down.

Her fingers wrapped around the shard. Its edges cut into her skin but she didn't care. Yelling in anger and exertion, she brought her arm up and forced the shard into his shoulder. It was a poor mark at best, but it did the job.

He scrambled off of her, cried out in pain and surprise. Georgia barely took a moment to catch her breath before she was on top of him, beating his face in. Her hand hurt from where the glass shard had cut her skin, but she paid it no mind. She was seeing red.

No one fucking touched her. Not unless she wanted them to. They had all touched her mother, her sister, even her fucking brother. But she wasn't going to end up like them. Her father had told her to survive. That was what she was going to do.

Shaw's blood was on her knuckles, dripping down her wrist. But maybe that was hers. His lips were puffed-up; his eyes were swollen shut; his cheeks were starting to bruise. Georgia kept going. She only stopped when she felt someone pulling her away, at which time she began thrashing around.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" She tried to land a punch in but her assailant was quick. All too soon her hands were being pushed down again, but she still had free reign of everything else. She kept screaming.

"Georgia, it's me! It's me. Shh, doll. You're okay… You're okay…"

He was holding her face between his hands. Warm hands. Gentle hands. Hands that she knew had killed many other people, but would never hurt her. He had told her that himself.

"Negan." She tried pulling away but he only held her there tighter, forcing her to look him in the eye. "He… He tried to—"

"I know, doll. I know." A tear had slipped from the corner of her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb. "You're okay now, alright? You know I'd never fucking touch you, right?" She nodded. "We'll take care of him tomorrow. Right now, you need to have your hand fixed up, and then you need to rest."

Georgia shook her head. "I don't want him staying here. I can't fucking h-have him anywhere near me."

"He'll be in the cells in the basement. I'll have someone stand watch by your door. Is that okay with you?"

She shook her head again. The guard could get in while she was asleep, they could get to her and she'd be totally defenseless. Surely Negan knew that? No, he just looked at her with a mixture of concern and impatience.

"Well what the fuck do you want?"

She just wanted to be safe. Negan seemed to sense that, because then he was nodding his head and reassuring her again that she was "alright".

Everything after that was a blur. He took her to Carson, the resident medical expert, who stitched up her palm and wrapped her hand in bandages to save her raw knuckles from too much contact. After that, Negan walked her down a hall that was completely foreign to her. She would have panicked if she didn't trust him so much. He pushed her into a room that wasn't hers; told her to get cleaned up and to get some sleep.

She only did one of those. After finding a relatively sharp object from one of the drawers in the desk at the far end of the room, gripping it tight in her hand, she curled up on one side of the bed, facing the door, and promptly fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

It was Negan's room. Of course it was Negan's room.

He woke her up in the ass crack of dawn with nary an explanation, just told her that she had unfinished business to attend to. She knew what he meant. She didn't even have time to think about how Negan had let her sleep _in his room_ , because her mind was set on Shaw and what kind of punishment Negan would have planned for him.

It wasn't the iron. If it was, Negan would have led her to the center of the factory. Instead, he took her to the empty field outside. A crowd had formed, with Shaw right smack in the middle of it. Dwight and Davey kept him where he was. Georgia took in his scarring, bruised face and felt another surge of anger.

Negan was talking to the crowd, explaining to them why they were there, why Shaw was there, and what was about to happen. He didn't need to explain it to Georgia, though. She knew well enough. Negan was going to beat Shaw's ass.

"Why?" he said to the crowd. "Because WE DON'T HURT WOMEN!" The sudden change in his voice made Shaw jump, and Georgia couldn't help the sick smile that crept up her face. "WE DON'T HIT THEM, WE DON'T SLAP THEM, AND WE MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT FUCKING RAPE THEM! IS THAT FUCKING CLEAR?"

"Yes, Negan," the crowd replied in tandem.

Then one of Negan's men was handing him a bat wrapped in barbed wire. It wasn't Lucille, though. Georgia could see that, plain as day, it was _her_ bat. Rawling's maple. She was confused but he just gave her a no-nonsense look, getting close to her face and muttering into her ear, "I want you to watch this go down, Georgia. Every single fucking second of it. It'll be gross, it'll be fucked up, but you'll thank me when it's done."

Georgia watched him stride up to Shaw, give him a condescending smile. He let Shaw beg for a few seconds before swinging the bat. It struck Shaw beneath his jaw and soon he was sprawled out on the ground. Dwight and Davey backed away, knowing that they were no longer needed; Shaw wouldn't be able to stand anymore.

Negan beat his head in with Georgia's bat until every bone in his face was shattered, until his skull caved in, until his brain was nothing more than clumped, red goo on the ground. Georgia remembered what Negan said. She watched every single fucking second of it.

But it was over before she knew it. Dwight and Davey dragged Shaw's body away – to be burned, buried, or left for the dead, she didn't care. Negan dismissed the workers and dragged her back to his room. His wives had gotten back before them but he barely gave them a second glance. Georgia caught Sherry's eye though; there was something there that she couldn't read.

"You know why I did that, right?" Negan said, once he had locked the door behind him.

"Yeah."

"You know why I wouldn't let you do it yourself?"

"Yeah."

His eyes flashed dangerously. Georgia didn't know what she'd done wrong. Lightning fast, he moved to stand directly in front of her, pushing his face close again and placing his hands on her shoulders.

"If anyone bothers you, you tell me. If you want anyone dead, you tell me. If anyone tries to fucking touch you ever again, you fucking tell me. _I'm_ the only one allowed to ever fucking touch you, is that shit motherfucking clear?"

It was as close to begging as he was ever going to get. But Georgia had found something wrong in his statements. Frowning, she whispered, "I'm not one of your wives, Negan. You don't own me."

"Just because you ain't my wife doesn't mean I don't fucking own you, doll. You best fucking remember that." He was still holding her bat; Shaw's blood dripped onto the floor. Negan grinned at her, and she couldn't help but to smile back.


	3. Shave This Shit

**[chanting] FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12, FEB 12-**

* * *

Negan had never planned on growing his beard as long as he did. He had just been so caught up with keeping everyone and everything in line that it had always slipped his mind. But now some free time had dropped from the very heavens and landed on his outstretched hands, and he was not going to waste a fucking opportunity.

He was planning on having one of his wives do it for him – maybe he'd get to fuck them after, to see how it felt with his face bare – when an object of interest suddenly walked past, and a better idea crossed his mind.

"Hey, doll."

Georgia stopped walking and turned around, eyebrows raised. She had her hair braided down, but a few strands had fallen loose, framing her face. She looked tired, but her tawny gaze was as fiery as ever. She didn't kneel. She never did. But she still knew who was boss and fuck him if it didn't turn him on.

"You busy?" he said.

"I was just on my way to the kitchen—"

"Screw that. They can deal fine without you. I got something for you to do."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, but he turned on his heel before she could say anything. Her footsteps trailed quickly behind him before they were walking side by side. She kept up pretty well.

"What is it?" she asked.

Negan grinned. "Just wait, doll. You'll love it."

He led her to his parlor, not bothering to introduce her to the other wives. If he was lucky, the closest thing they'd ever get to a bitch fight was a stare-down, which was exactly what he got – more specifically, from Josie. She had always been a jealous bitch. Negan took a moment to throw her a warning glare before practically shoving Georgia into the bathroom.

Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. Negan rolled his eyes. "Relax, doll. I ain't gonna ask you to fucking suck me off. Like I said, I just need a favor."

"And sucking you off wouldn't be a favor?" Her voice was shaky, betraying her anxiety, but the challenge was clear in her eyes. That was what he'd loved about her in the first place. She didn't take shit from him but was smart enough to give him respect.

"It'd be an act of fucking kindness, sweetheart." He winked. "Why? You offering?"

She switched her gaze to the floor. Grinning, Negan got a razor and a bottle of shaving cream from the medicine cabinet and handed them to her. Her eyes widened even further. She raised her head and gave him a disbelieving look.

"Do I need to fucking spell it out for you?" He pulled a high stool from the corner and sat down on it, unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and laid it on his lap. "I'm putting a lot of trust in you, doll. If you slit my throat, I am coming back and pulling your guts out from your fucking neck. Got it?"

He didn't think she'd do that, he thought. Not in a million years. Still, he waited for her to nod her head before relaxing completely. When she still didn't move, he released an impatient growl. "Don't you fucking know how to shave a beard?"

"I—I do, but—"

"Then fucking do it!"

Her gaze only turned even steelier, as he'd expected. Resisting the urge to smile, he watched as she plucked his towel from the rack and placed it around his neck. She turned towards the sink, and he took the opportunity to stare at her ass. A light whistle escaped his lips. When she turned back around, she glared at him, but he could see it was half-hearted.

She was shaking a bit when she put the shaving cream on him with the brush. She still was when she brought the razor up. Quickly, Negan grabbed her wrist and stared at her hard. "One fucking cut, doll. Fucking try me."

The nervousness seemed to leak out of her. When he let go of her wrist, her hands were as steady as they were when she was holding her bat. She placed the razor against his temple, using her other hand to stretch his skin. Her touch was feather light but strong at the same time. She moved it here and there, touching him wherever she needed to.

All too soon, she had finished with his face and moved on to the hair on his neck. When her fingers touched him there, his eyes drifted shut. He didn't even fucking care if she smelled like dried sweat; it was a pleasant change to whatever fucking perfumes his wives wore. Georgia was strong and entirely capable of handling herself. Negan couldn't help but to think what she'd be like in bed.

He felt himself grow hard. Her hand suddenly stopped moving before she pulled it away entirely. Negan opened his eyes and grinned. She was staring down at his lap, her face a mixture of irritation and surprise.

"Can you fucking blame me, darlin'?" he said. "Your hands are like heaven."

She stared at him for a long moment before stepping up again and continuing her work. Negan made it a point to watch her through half-lidded eyes – took in the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth in concentration, with her eyes slightly narrowed. Her hand moved across his ear and his eyes fluttered shut again. His hard-on grew.

But then she had finished, pulling back from him like he was the plague. He didn't miss the reluctance that crossed her face, though.

As she was washing the razor, he came up from behind her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to feel him breathing down her neck. He saw the goosebumps trailing down her skin, and he grinned. "Didn't I fucking say that you'd love it?"

She just pursed her lips and moved away. Laughing lightly, he stepped up to the sink and began washing the shaving cream off his face. Once he was done, he turned fully to her and held his hands out at his sides, eyebrows raised.

"Well?" he said. "Do I look like a male model or what?"

"You look… different."

"Huh." He came up closer to her and leaned down with a grin. "So you liked the scruff a bit more than you cared to fucking show, did you?"

"I'm just not used to how this one looks on you." She blinked. "What made you want to shave it anyway?"

He shrugged. "We got this group about a week ago. Came, saw, and fucking conquered. But one of the pricks had a fuzz even thicker than mine, and I sure as hell didn't fucking want to look like him."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's buried without a fucking skull right now."

"Oh."

There was no fear in her voice, just hard acceptance of his words. Another thing he liked about her. She wasn't squeamish.

A moment of tense silence passed between them before she asked to take her leave. Negan just nodded, but he followed her ass out with his eyes. When she was gone, he looked down and sighed.

He was still hard.


	4. Polaroid

**I had originally planned for this next chapter to be something Georgia-centric, but it's just so fun writing Negan and I couldn't help myself. He might be a bit OOC in this, but it shows how his feelings are developing. (Contrary to popular opinion, he's still human, and not just human enough to want a good lay.)**

 **Please forgive any errors. This was written after a night of intense partying.**

 **I hope y'all enjoy. :)**

* * *

"Dentist?"

"No."

"Teacher?"

"No."

"Accountant?"

"No."

"Librarian?"

She released a hushed guffaw. "As if!"

"Can't blame me for imagining, doll. I think you'd look hot as fuck in a tight little pencil skirt."

A blush colored her cheeks and she turned away, promptly checking an overturned crate and pretending like they hadn't already searched that spot. Negan's tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as she bent over. He swore she had the most perfect ass he'd ever seen.

"Put me out of my misery and just fucking tell me," he said.

"Not until you tell me yours!"

"I have never told anyone what I was before this whole shit stain started, and I sure as fuck ain't gonna start with you, doll." He grinned when she straightened up, his eyes still on her ass. "Although, I like to think I can be bribed..."

The suggestion hung in the air between them like a well-poised knife. She pinned him with that tawny gaze and said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Electricity shot through his bones, straight down to his balls. Georgia must have noticed because she shot him another grin before walking away. Her bat hung beside her, covered in zombie blood and guts. Negan never thought that such a sight could turn him on until then.

Later on that run, she was helping Dwight and the others clear an abandoned Walmart when Negan noticed the grimace on her face. His mind flashed back to all the other times he had seen her fighting and he had always seen that grimace – one of disgust, however badly hidden it may have been. She was anything but petty, though. Negan assumed that the look was somewhat unconsciously done. That didn't stop him from teasing her about it later on.

There was something about the way her eyes flashed that turned him on.

Another thing he noticed was that she was always so damn poised. It didn't matter whether she was eating, bending over, bashing in zombie brains, or even just waiting for orders. Her chin was always held high, she never slouched, and when she walked, there was a subtle but graceful sway to her hips that drew his attention time and time again.

It was while they were taking a break – Georgia was sitting on an old tire; she had her knees drawn up, her arms resting on them – when Negan finally put his finger on it.

"What?" said Georgia. He'd been staring at her for a while.

"Holy fucking fuck."

"What?" said Georgia, more alarmed now.

"I got it."

"Got what?"

"I _got_ it."

He was grinning from ear to ear and she looked like she was ready to stab someone.

"Negan, I swear to god—"

"You were a model."

His statement was met with silence. He knew he wasn't wrong.

Georgia shifted on the tire, putting her knees together and wrapping her arms around them and making herself look small. She wouldn't look at him. By that time, they had caught the attention of the few who sat close to Negan. They were regarding Georgia with new interest, and Negan couldn't have that.

Still grinning, Negan stood and swaggered over to her, something she was entirely capable of doing, he was sure. He crouched in front of her, close enough that he could count the freckles littering her cheeks. He kept close so everyone could get the message: do not fucking disturb.

"I'm right. You were a fucking model."

"Half right," she said. "I was a student too. I modeled part-time."

His eyebrows shot up. "How old are you?"

"I'm 26. I was studying med when the world ended." Her gaze sharpened into a glare. "What, did you think I was in high school or something?"

"Would've been a damn shame if you weren't legal yet. Kinky as that may be, I ain't into that." She scoffed and turned her head in what he knew was an attempt to hide her blush. "So a model, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never let it be said that Negan would _possibly_ take an interest in a girl for her brains."

"Hey, I never said that I wasn't impressed with med school. It's pretty hot. But you forget that you interested me because of your bike... and Milo. Your bod was just a plus one."

"Don't call it that."

"What?"

"The bat. Don't call it Milo. It's just a bat. Alright?" She was going to give him whiplash, but there was an urgency in her voice that told him he had to be very careful about what he said next.

"Alright, doll," he said. "How long were you in it for? The modeling, I mean."

"I got a contract for three years. I was only on my second when everything went to shit. Never did get that last paycheck."

Negan released a sharp laugh. "The world's got nasty ways of fucking us over."

They didn't get to talk much after that. The sun was getting low and Negan had to get his men back to Sanctuary. The roamers always got friskier after dark, and he didn't want to lose any more men. Rick the Prick had done enough of that. They'd head out again tomorrow. Despite the constant income of supplies from the other communities, Negan knew Sanctuary needed more if they were going to survive the upcoming winter.

Georgia didn't come with them on the next run. Negan placed her in kitchen duty. She was confused, even more pissed, but he had his reasons. He just didn't tell her any of them. He did tell Dwight, though, the last person who would ever think to come onto Georgia.

"I got a special fucking job for you, Dwighty boy," Negan had said.

"Boss?"

"I need you to find something for me."

When he had finished explaining, Dwight was confused. "We already got one of those back in camp. You can use that one."

Negan shook his head. "I don't want that one. I'm using this one for something else." Something relatively more… sentimental – something less fucked up.

Dwight, being the bendable henchman that he was, didn't fail to bring Negan what he wanted. As a reward, Negan left him alone for the rest of the next day, because as it was, he had other things to do with his time, involving a certain female whose body would look fucking good in a Polaroid picture.

He waited until the end of the working day to go searching for her. He found her in the hallway, heading to her rooms to get cleaned up, no doubt. Her hair was in a messy bun and Negan would bet his balls that she'd worked up a good amount of sweat. Just what he liked to see.

"Hey, doll," he said, holding the camera up to his eye. He wanted it to be perfect.

She whipped her head 'round. As soon as her eyes settled on him but before any emotion could settle in, Negan took the picture. There was a loud _click_ , and then a flash.

Georgia let out a startled yelp and shut her eyes, rubbing them. "What the fuck, dude?"

Negan just grinned. The photo slid out from the top of the camera and he waved it around, waiting patiently for the image to appear. Meanwhile, Georgia approached him and looked at the Polaroid camera with interest. She took it from him, thankfully leaving the photograph in his fingers.

"Where did you find this?"

"I had Dwight look for it on the run yesterday."

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. " _That_ 's why you didn't want me coming with?"

"Couldn't risk getting a scar on your pretty face, doll. I needed _this_." By that time, the image had appeared on the film in his hand. Negan was transfixed.

He had taken the photo at the precise moment, it seemed. It showed her neck craned to the side, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide with expectation, curious as to what he had wanted. Her mouth was parted just slightly. The strawberry strands that had escaped her bun framed her face. Her shirt, which was a size too big for her, hung low on her shoulder, showing a dark bra strap and just the slightest hint of forbidden skin.

It was perfect.

Georgia had come to stand beside him, peering down at the photograph. After a few moments, she released a loud huff. She obviously didn't like it. Negan couldn't fathom why.

"I hope you plan on burning that," she said.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Negan said, still staring down at her picture in awe.

"I look like shit!"

"We all look like shit these days, doll, but you must be fucking kidding yourself if you think you look like shit _here_. For a model, you've got a shit fashion sense."

"And I suppose you think you have a better sense of what looks good and what doesn't?"

"When it comes down this Polaroid, I probably fucking do."

She glared before promptly snatching the photograph from him and stuffing it into her back pocket. Negan growled. "Give that back."

"No. I won't have you jerking off to shitty photos of me."

His eyes lit up. "So you plan on taking any better ones?"

"If you're hoping for nudes, you'll be disappointed." Still, to his pleased surprise, she handed him back the camera. "Next time, give me a warning. I never fucking liked candids."

Humming, Negan brought the camera up to his eye again. "Say cheese," he said. He gave her enough time to do so, but he wasn't disappointed when she didn't flash a smile. Instead, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to the size. Her nose crinkled slightly and her lips curled into an exasperated sort of smile. Her eyes sparkled.

The photo was in his hand. As soon as the image had appeared, he pocketed it.

"Hey!" Georgia complained. "Let me see!"

"Nope. I'm keeping this one."

"It's shitty!"

"It's fucking perfect, doll. Now get cleaned up. Dinner's in ten minutes."

He turned around and walked away. He heard her complaints from behind him, echoing up and down the hall, but he didn't stop. On his way to his room, he thought about when he'd be able to get a shot of her holding her bat. That'd be something he could jerk off to.

But the picture from earlier, he realized when he was finally alone, was something he had kept for an entirely different reason. He slipped it out from his pocket, stared for a minute, and groaned.

He was so fucked.


	5. Identity

**Here's a long, Georgia-centric chapter, since I've left her alone for so long. This time, we finally see what she feels about Negan. ;)**

 **This one takes place in S7E8, if it isn't already obvious enough. I altered some stuff, but if I did it right then y'all shouldn't notice most of it. (Also, there's not that many cuss words in this one. Boring, right?)**

 **Kindly forgive any spelling or grammar errors. I don't have a beta and this was written in the dead of night with me running on fumes and coffee. But otherwise: enjoy!**

* * *

For what must have been the fifth time during that single car ride, Georgia glanced over her shoulder and into the backseat, at the kid that had single-handedly infiltrated Sanctuary and killed two men. And for the fifth time, Rick the Prick's kid turned his gaze away from the window and stared right back at her. Negan still hadn't let him put his eye patch back on. Georgia was the first to look away.

"If he scares you that much, why don't you just fucking kill him?" Negan said.

"I'm not gonna kill a fucking kid, Negan."

"Then stop giving him the stink eye. It's annoying," he said. Georgia rolled her eyes; he sounded more amused than irritated. "Do I take a right here or what, kid?"

The kid, Carl, shook his head. "Just straight ahead."

Georgia wished there was a partition she could pull up so he wouldn't hear what she had to say. How could Negan trust him so easily? What if he was leading them to some sort of ambush or, God forbid, a herd of Roamers? It wasn't entirely impossible. Rick's group would have been smart enough to close off a herd instead of killing them off. What if Carl knew where it was and he was leading them straight to it?

She couldn't tell any of that to Negan, of course. He had found himself a new pet and was enjoying every minute of it. Scowling, she tightened her grip on her gun. If Negan wasn't going to look out for himself then she'd do it for him. The Saviors wouldn't like it if she returned to Sanctuary without their boss in one piece.

"There it is." Grinning, Negan took a right turn and, indeed, there it was.

Georgia had never been to the so-called _walled city_ before. She had thought that Negan's description of the fortifications was hyperbolic, larger than life, but she was wrong. Still, she refused to be impressed, staring up at the walls. They were certainly tall, but a large enough herd could overpower the supports, and the entirety would come crashing down.

In a fancy motion, Negan brought forth Lucille and knocked her against the front gate. The brown tarpaulin was pulled to the side and a man peeked out. Between the unexpected sights of Negan, Carl, and Georgia (otherwise an alien to the people of Alexandria), his eyes couldn't have gotten any wider.

He quickly unlocked the gates and just like that, they were inside Rick's precious metropolis. Georgia couldn't blame him for protecting it so selfishly. Since the world ended, she thought she'd never be able to see something so normal again, something so _perfect_. She was wrong. Alexandria was perfect.

It had proper houses, proper bedding, running water – she even caught a glimpse of a playground, in full working condition and untouched by Roamers. Alexandria had streetlights, and it even had a _church_. (She would never even consider stepping foot in it, but the thought of the building was there. Who could still believe in God?)

"Beautiful, right?" Negan said. Georgia's wonder must have been on full display. She hurriedly tried to hide it.

"These are the assholes that got you to shave?"

"These are the assholes that have been sheltering the actual assholes that got me to shave."

Georgia smirked, though she didn't miss the righteous anger that flashed across Carl's face. Staring warily at the back of his head, she trailed behind as the kid led them to their house, per Negan's orders. The rest of the troops from Sanctuary stayed behind to gather the supplies.

Once they were standing on the porch of a peach California Bungalow, Negan brought Lucille up again and knocked four times.

A portly young woman opened the door. She froze as soon as she saw Negan, mouth hanging open in surprise. Negan stepped forward and she was forced to make way, opening the door wider. Georgia gave her a sideways glance, a warning, before following after Negan.

Carl shared a few words with the woman, nothing that suggested danger. Still, Georgia kept her eye on them as she explored the bungalow. Everything was so clean.

"Great, great, great, great, great, _great_!" A quick glance up and Georgia saw that Negan was in one of his good moods; his tongue kept running over his teeth as he smiled. "Where's Rick?" he asked.

The portly woman struggled for an answer. "I… Um, I—I just—"

"Don't care," Negan interrupted, still smiling. "Where's Rick?"

"Uh… Out. Scavenging. For you."

"Cool. I'll wait."

"H—He went out pretty far. They might not be back today." If Negan kept up the intimidating aura, Georgia was sure that the lady was going to start choking. She was so nervous. And then the smallest hint of bravado crept in behind the glasses, ever so slowly. "We're running really low on everything. We're practically _starving_ here."

Georgia had to hide a smile behind her hand, pretending to scratch her nose. Although he was facing away from her, she knew that Negan was smiling as well. "'Starving.' You," he said. "By _practically_ , you mean _not really_."

Silence reigned for a few seconds and then the woman's face crumpled. She began sobbing and hid her face from view. Negan turned to face Carl and threw him a disbelieving look. "Really? You people seriously don't have a sense of fucking humor."

When he met her gaze, Georgia just shrugged indifferently and promptly raided the pantry. His conversation with the fat woman continued: "Excuse me… what's your name again?"

"Olivia." It was said through gritted teeth.

"Right. Olivia…"

The woman's sniffling stopped. She turned to face Negan, surprise evident on her face, and it was then that Georgia noticed he had his hand on her arm. Jealousy reared its ugly head; she wanted to kill it with a shotgun. But as it was, she could only clamp down hard on it and let nature take its course. If Negan wanted to flirt, he could go right ahead. She didn't have the right to be jealous. Even his wives didn't have that right.

"I am sorry for having been so rude to you just now," he said. "It looks like we're gonna be here for a while, awaiting your fearless leader's return. And if you'd like, I think it would be enjoyable to screw your brains out. I mean if, you know, you were agreeable to it—"

There was the resounding clap of skin on skin. Olivia had slapped him. Oddly enough, Georgia couldn't bring herself to care. A slap would hardly kill Negan, and for some reason, she was sure that he wouldn't kill Olivia either. Ultimately, Georgia's interest in a refrigerator had never been so intense than in that moment.

"I am about fifty percent more into you now. Just sayin'," Negan said in a hushed, raspy tone that Georgia still heard. She bit the inside of her cheek. "Alright, well, I'm just gonna put my feet up and wait for my stuff to get here. Olivia, would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade? Now I know I left y'all some of that good powdered stuff."

"B—But I'm not supposed to—"

" _Make it_." Negan raised his voice. Georgia finally pulled her head out of the fridge and turned her concentration to the dining room, arms crossed. Sanctuary's fearless leader had his smoldering gaze on helpless, fat Olivia. "Make it. Take your time. Make it good."

With that, Olivia brushed past him and exited the house. Negan turned and threw Georgia a little smirk, as if they were sharing a joke. She just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Hey, kid," she said, waiting for Carl to look over at her. "While waiting for your dad, you mind giving us a tour? I'm bored."

He was obviously skeptic about the idea – it was clear as day on his face – but one look at Negan and he knew better than to question them. Nodding, he said, "Follow me."

* * *

The flooring was carpeted nicely in the second floor. Negan took his boots off as soon as they had climbed the staircase. Georgia would have been lying if she'd said that she wasn't tempted to do the same, but she had more respect than him. Carl looked like he was about to open a vein.

Negan enjoyed the running water a little too much; even went so far as to wash his hair in the shower while Georgia waited with Carl in the bedroom. The awkwardness was palpable.

They spent a little more time in the games room. Negan played some darts while Georgia raided the DVD case; then he put her up to a game of Foozeball. She flashed back to the times she had played the very same game in college while she was drunk. As she played with Negan, the giddy smile on his face brought her more joy than she was willing to admit.

But it was their time in the next room that well and truly screwed her over.

Carl was more adamant on keeping them out of this one than all the others. This, of course, piqued Negan's interest. With a twinkle in his eye, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. All three of them froze at the same time – Carl in apprehension, Negan in overexcitement, and Georgia in disbelief.

It was a baby. Rick had a fucking baby.

"Oh my goodness," Negan exclaimed, shoving Lucille into Carl's hands. "Look at _you_!"

She had dirty blonde hair, blue-green eyes, and the face of an angel. Negan wasted no time in lifting her up from her crib and cradling her in his arms. While Carl nervously gripped Lucille between his hands, Georgia's feet remained glued by the door. Negan was cooing at the little girl; his delight shone bright in his eyes.

It was the only time Georgia dared to consider what he might have been like before the apocalypse. Had he been married? Had he been a father? Had he been a _good_ father?

Georgia shook her head. That was going too far.

"Negan, I'm going for a walk."

"Don't get yourself fucking killed."

"Don't fucking do anything to the baby."

She felt his eyes on her as she walked away. She didn't look back, not until she was out of the house, at which time, she released a long sigh. _Balls._

When had she become so sentimental – about _Negan_? Since he had driven her out to fight an entire herd of Roamers on her own, and then driven her back? Since he'd saved her from getting raped? Since he'd asked her to shave his beard? Since he'd asked Dwight to look for a camera just so he could take a goddamn Polaroid of her?

None of it was right. None of the things she felt for Negan could ever be right. He was a cold-blooded killer who had named his barbwire-wrapped bat after his dead wife. He smashed people's brains in, only occasionally for fun. He took people who broke his rules and ironed their faces off in front of a crowd.

How could she have even _begun_ to start feeling for him? Was it because he had taken her in? He'd only done that because he needed to run Sanctuary; he needed people in order to do that. Was it because he didn't slap her every time she refused to kneel when everyone else did? It turned him on. Everything she did could turn him on, and he liked being turned on. He didn't keep her around for anything else; she was just another one of his lackeys, and if she had any less dignity, she'd be just another one of his whores.

So why was she so fucking hung up on him?

She had been walking for a while; she only realized it when the ache in her feet had come close to unbearable. The road had just gone on and on, and she didn't find any reason to stop. It was easy to get lost in the sights and smells of the suburban territory. The grass, the trees, and the paint of the houses were untouched by the stench of Roamer.

For a moment, Georgia could picture herself living here: safe and sound, only relying on Rick the Prick to scavenge food and supplies, and never having to use a gun. It would be different… and incontrovertibly _wrong_. Staying in Alexandria meant going soft. That couldn't happen. She had come too far.

Georgia was sure that she'd gone around the whole of Alexandria before finally coming to a stop at the front gate. And as if on cue, Derek, from Sanctuary, opened the gate to reveal a white van. It wasn't one of theirs.

A man stepped out from the passenger side. Curly hair, baby blue eyes, confident demeanor – Negan had given an apt enough description for Georgia to know that this was Rick Grimes, more popularly known as Rick the Prick. A smile crept up her features, despite herself.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Negan?" said Derek. "He's in your house, asshole, waiting for you."

Georgia didn't miss the way his breathing picked up a little at the mention of Negan being at his house. He was probably worried for his baby. He looked like he was about to head over there too, strides long and purposeful, when Paxton stopped him.

"Hey now," he said. "Just like that? We've been waiting for _a while_ , man, just to see what you'd bring us. Why don't we have a look first?"

He and the rest of the troops from Sanctuary proceeded to unload the van. Another unfamiliar, the one who had pulled in with Rick, watched as they placed the boxes right by his feet. Georgia walked over to the wall and leaned against it.

"Planning on giving us a hand, G?" Leslie asked, throwing Georgia that annoying scowl.

Georgia shrugged and crossed her arms. "There aren't many boxes. You'll do fine."

And she was right. Without her help, they finished unloading in less than two minutes. Paxton wasted no time in opening one of the boxes and pulling out a gun. The rest followed suit. Georgia watched on with interest and noticed that none of the guns were actually loaded. The boxes didn't carry any ammo, either.

"The hell's this?" said Leslie, finding a piece of paper in one of the boxes. "'Congrats for winning but you still lose'?"

Derek snatched the message from her hands, read it himself, and then shoved it in front of Rick's friend's face. "Did you leave us a little love note?"

"No, I just… I mean, we wouldn't obviously—"

"Did you say it's _obvious_?"

By that time, Derek had walked the man to the side of the van, so Georgia couldn't see what was happening. But from the abrupt _clang_ and the grunt of pain, and Rick's indignant demeanor, Georgia could guess that things were going downhill pretty quickly. She pushed off the wall and made towards Derek.

"We didn't do that."

"It's not about the damn note!"

After issuing a warning to Rick, Diego decided he'd join in on the fun. He had only just arrived at the scene, too, when he abruptly socked Rick's friend in the gut. The man went down and then Diego was kicking him. Leslie kept Rick at bay, pointing a gun at his face. He looked like he was about to cry.

A particularly nasty kick opened a cut above the man's eyebrow. Georgia saw it fit to intervene. She grabbed Leslie's wrist and pushed it down, glaring fiercely, before turning to Diego. "Diego, it was a joke. That's enough."

When he didn't stop, she stepped up so that she was standing above Rick's friend. "Don't be a dick," she snapped, giving Diego a firm shove. "I said that's enough!"

"You think you've got anything on me, _Georgia_?" Diego got right in her face. At least he had stopped hitting; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rick help his friend up. "Negan ain't here to save you now. You don't have your bat with you. So what're you gonna do?"

"What do you think Negan's gonna do when he finds out that you beat me up? You remember what happened to Shaw, right? You wanna end up like that too?" His face fell. Georgia sneered. "Because that's what's gonna happen if you don't walk away, but the only difference is that _I'm_ gonna be the one you're staring up at, not Negan. So: _Walk. Away._ "

It wasn't often that she got in fights with her fellow Saviors, but they were crossing the line here. Diego's nostrils flared and for a moment, Georgia thought that she was going to get herself into an actual brawl. But then after a few seconds, he sniffed and pushed past her. Leslie and Derek got their last scoffs in before turning away as well.

Relieved, Georgia turned her attention to Rick. He was currently supporting his friend, barely, and they were both staring at her with wary eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "You need help there?"

"No," Rick grunted. He tried to walk forward but only succeeded in dragging his friend's feet against the gravel.

"Yeah, you do." Ignoring his protests, Georgia bent down and looped the stranger's arm around her shoulders. He was heavier than he looked. "Come on. Where to?"

"My house," said Rick. "Negan…"

"I know, I know."

Together, they set off for the peach California Bungalow.

It was several minutes in when Rick finally opened his mouth. Honestly, Georgia had expected him to go longer, considering how much pride she was sure he had.

"Why are you with the Saviors?" he asked. "With _Negan_?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I like being with them?"

"You're a good person. You wouldn't be helping me if you weren't. But the Saviors… they aren't good people."

She sighed. "We don't pretend to be good people. We do what we have to do so that we stay alive, so that the people back at home can stay alive. Isn't that what you're doing? You brought those supplies back so that Alexandria can keep going, didn't you?"

"We could make a truce but your people are taking _everything_ —"

"I would have considered making a truce too, you know; then Negan told me about the outpost. The one you destroyed." She heard his breathing stall a bit. "How many people did you kill there, Rick – while they were _asleep_? Thirty? Forty?"

He growled. "You think we'd count?"

Georgia continued unfazed. "And how many of yours has Negan killed? Not a lot, from what he tells us. It was painful, I understand that. They were family. But what about those people at the outpost? They had family too back at Sanctuary, husbands, wives, sons and daughters… If I had been stationed there, your people would've killed me without batting an eye. Talking to me now, how does that make you feel?"

"Your people would've found us. They would've killed us all—"

"If you hadn't killed them first." She scoffed. "Typical guy logic, I guess. But Rick… Look where you are now."

She would have said more – surprising even herself; she actually had a lot to say on the matter – but then a gunshot rang from down the street. Rick cursed and picked up the pace; Georgia pursed her lips, and however unconsciously, her thoughts strayed to Negan.

Rightly so, as it turned out. When they arrived at Rick's house, a crowd had formed. Some were residents of Alexandria, wide-eyed and quaking with fear; some were Negan's men, and they had their guns pointed at whoever looked hostile. Georgia heard screaming.

There was a pool table in the middle of it all. At the foot of it was a girl lying on the road. The screaming was coming from her.

"NO! IT WAS ME! IT WAS ME—"

Another gunshot. Georgia flinched slightly. The shot had come from Arat, who was leaning over the screaming girl. She had shot the portly woman from Rick's house – Olivia. Before Georgia could protest, Rick had pulled away and was approaching Negan with eyes screaming bloody murder.

"We had an agreement!"

"Rick!" said Negan, grinning, as always, even when his face and shirt were splattered with blood. "Man, your people are making me lose my voice doing all this yelling. You know what? How about a _thank you_. I mean, I know we started off with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, but I just bent over backwards trying to show you how reasonable I am!"

Rick's friend was starting to weigh heavy on her shoulders. She was just about to set him down when one of Rick's people rushed up to her and happily relieved her of the load. The two of them seemed to know each other.

Sighing, Georgia threw them one last glance before making her way to the front of the crowd. Knowing Negan, he was just about to start explaining what had happened.

* * *

Rick had looked so betrayed when she walked past him and trailed after the Saviors. Georgia couldn't fathom why. She hadn't given him any hints about joining his cause, about leaving Negan. Maybe it was because everything she had told him was the truth; he knew it.

Negan had had a trying day. As soon as they were within Sanctuary's walls, he was ordering men about, not giving their new stolen addition a good time, either. But she was surprised when he suddenly grabbed her arm and pushed her up against the side of one of their trucks, none too gently.

His breathing was heavy, eyes harsh as he got right up to her face. "What the fuck was that I saw back there, doll?"

"I don't know what—"

"DON'T FUCKING PLAY DUMB WITH ME!" He slammed Lucille hard against the side of the truck, just beside her head. The metal dented. It was the first time since she'd joined the Saviors that she actually thought he was going to hurt her. "You were with Rick the Prick. You were _helping_ him with his friend, weren't you? You totally were. I saw you, doll."

"Diego beat him up for _nothing_. I didn't see any harm in helping him walk."

" _Didn't see any harm_ —" His face contorted in fury, one such that had never been directed at her before. "You are one of _my_ men. We don't fucking _help_ Rick's friends. We don't fucking help _anyone_ except our own. You got it?"

"I got it, Negan. I'm sorry." She really was.

Slowly, like water draining going down the drain, the anger left his face, replaced by a deep thoughtful look. Georgia knew that it was still something to be afraid of. When Negan was thinking, he was usually thinking about a brand new form of punishment.

"You are _so_ lucky that I like you, doll," he murmured quietly, as if they were sharing a secret. A dangerous gleam bled into his eyes. "Who are you?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. She had heard him ask that same question to several other Saviors. She knew what it meant, but he had never asked it of her before, so she'd just assumed—

Suddenly Lucille's barbs were biting into the skin on her neck. Negan pushed her chin up, forcing her to meet his fiery gaze. "Who. Are. You."

"I'm Negan," she said, without hesitation this time around.

Georgia could no longer question it, and she couldn't keep fighting it either. For better or for worse, she was his. And he knew it. She saw it in his eyes as the corner of his lip twitched, as he turned from her and walked away.

* * *

 **Oh dear, things are getting angsty. HAHAHAHA**

 **Do y'all have any suggestions on what the next oneshot could be about? I'm sort of running out of ideas, and I'm planning on having one or two more chapters up before the awaited "Negan-and-Georgia-finally-screw-each-other's-brains-out" chapter. (Trust me, I am planning that _very_ carefully, so y'all have that to look forward to. Little pervs.)**

 **Please don't hesitate to write down your suggestions in the comments below! They shall be greatly appreciated. :)**


	6. War

**Here we take a bit of a time leap. That being said, the events that will be referred to in this chapter will be explained when the next update comes out. (And yes, that will include the awaited M scene between Negan and Georgia.) Patience. We have a lot of time before the show starts up again. ;)**

 **As always, please forgive any errors. I still don't have a beta. But otherwise, enjoy!**

* * *

"I can do it but no one has to die!"

"You are wrong. Punishment – can't do anything without that. Punishment is how we built everything we fucking have."

"You think I'm gonna sit here and let you—"

"Careful!" Negan sucked in a sharp breath, reining in his patience. Fuck, he'd had a long day. Why couldn't Sasha just come quiet? "You are not _letting_ me do anything."

And still that defiance never left her face. She'd make a good addition to Sanctuary. For a sliver of a moment, Negan thought that it was Georgia in front of him, with her tawny eyes and bold expression coloring her freckled face. But said woman was standing behind him, hands on her maple bat, watching the scene with intense curiosity, he was sure.

Meanwhile, Sasha was practically baring her teeth. " _No one has to die_."

"Okay, how about this? One. Just one." His gaze turned steely. If she continued to refuse then things weren't going to end well for her. She was an asset, but not so important that he was going to waste even more resources on her than he already had. "I mean, I was gonna pull three out of the pool but… just one. And just for you."

"Negan."

He whipped around. Georgia had stepped further into the cell, gripping her bat so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. There was a pleading look on her face. She was shaking her head. "Negan," she said again. "You shouldn't—"

"Doll, I'm in the middle of something here."

"I know but it's—"

"Whatever it is, tell me later."

"I'm telling you _now_! We can't trust her. If we bring her over to Alexandria, one way or another she will get us _screwed o_ —"

"HEY!" In the blink of an eye, Negan was on his feet and had Lucille pointed at Georgia's face, right on the tip of her nose. He felt Sasha's eyes on him, on _them_. In a voice low enough so only Georgia could hear, he hissed, "Watch the way you speak to me, doll."

Her nostrils flared with determination but Negan didn't miss the fear that crossed her face. He knew he looked pretty damn terrifying then but he was _pissed_. Slowly, he lowered Lucille, snapped his fingers, and pointed at Georgia. "Paxton, take her back to her room."

He heard no more protests from her. Good. He was probably going to have his ear talked off later, during a more private discussion, but damn if he wasn't going to put her in her place. Negan scowled; for the first time since he'd known Georgia, he actually wasn't looking forward to being alone with her in her room.

* * *

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

His voice reverberated across the tiny room. When he slammed the door shut behind him, it sounded like a thunderclap. The workers living up and down the hall would start gossiping. Negan couldn't bring himself to care.

She was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn up. A book rested on her lap. She had flinched when he'd slammed the door. Negan thought that such a reaction would bring him pleasure – it was about time she knew when to hold her tongue – but all it brought him was the sense that something was about to go _very_ wrong.

"What do you mean 'what the fuck was that'?" she said, coming off of the bed and squaring her shoulders as she boldly held his gaze. "I was trying to tell you that you were making a mistake, but it's too late now, isn't it? You've probably already made that deal with her, put her in the fucking coffin already, right?"

"Listen here, doll. You don't get to fucking talk like that to _me_ , alright? _Not to me_. _I'm_ still the boss here. _I_ run this place. _I_ call the shots."

"Yeah and I'm telling you to _call it off_ , Negan. You know Rick more than I do. You know his people. They're loyal and Sasha – have you _seen_ her? She wouldn't agree to this, not if she didn't have something else in mind."

He scoffed. "D'you think I haven't already considered every single fucking possibility? I _know_ she's planning something. I know that the Prick is probably out looking for more guns right fucking now, but we don't adapt. We take 'em fucking head on, like always, and we win."

For a moment, it looked as though he had finally convinced her. Hesitation appeared on her face. She struggled for something to say. "How many men will you bring?"

"Twenty, including you and me."

"We need to bring more."

It was like something snapped inside him, some invisible cord that had been keeping his anger at bay. "Georgia," he said, raising his voice. "Just because we fucked _once_ doesn't mean you get to start acting like my _mother_! I mean _Jesus Christ_!"

Hours later, he would come to wish that he had never opened his mouth.

Her face crumpled. A glassy sheen came over her eyes but no tears fell. All too quickly, the feistiness returned to her, and she was bearing down hard. "That's all it was then? Just some one-time fuck? I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more from a guy who's scared to carry some fucking baggage."

"Doll, I'm not _scared_ of anything."

"Then why'd you name that thing?" She pointed at Lucille. "That, that… piece of _shit_. Lucille. _Darling_ Lucille."

His mouth curled into a terrible snarl. "Watch your fucking mouth, doll."

" _No_ ," she hissed. "Here I am trying to slap some sense into your fucking ass and you tell me to fuck off. I am _trying_ to protect you, Negan! And fine, you can put whatever fucking label you want on me. Mother, employee, but I am not your _whore_. I'm not your fucking wife either, you told me that yourself. Or have you forgotten already?"

"Stop putting words into my mouth. We were stranded, we were alone, and fine, I was fucking _scared_ – but you were too! I would've said anything to calm you down."

"None of it was true then." A cold laugh escaped her lips; Negan never would have thought that he'd hear something so heartless come from her. "Like I said, you're just some guy who's scared of too much baggage."

His temper was coming up in flames. By that point, they were yelling at each other's faces. His brain was hardly doing any processing, any filtering. She was clearly doing her best to hurt him, so why couldn't he do the same? " _What the fuck do you want from me_?"

"I want you to be real," she said. "Like when we were running from that fucking herd, when it was just us – I want you to be _real_ with me. You're in your own fucking world where no one should challenge you, where you're not _scared_ of anything, when in fact you're scared fucking shitless!"

"Doll, it's not my job to hand over my baggage." Somehow, _somehow_ , he managed to tone his voice down to an angry murmur. "I didn't fucking ask for your help. I don't need it."

"You do. And I want to give it." Her hands, calloused from years of fighting Roamers, were suddenly gripping his arm. For a minute Negan allowed himself to enjoy her warmth, her touch; the familiarity of her – but then those warm hands travelled down until they were gripping Lucille's handle.

Negan tugged the bat away, none too gently. "Georgia, don't."

"Just let it go for a minute and we can talk…"

"Doll, I said _no_."

"Lucille is _dead_ , Negan. Your wife is _dead_. This bat isn't her. You need to let go—"

"What, so I can be with you?" he snapped, shoving her away but getting in her face all the same. "That's what you want, isn't it? You don't just want the fucks, you want _me_. All that baggage and shit. Well, let me fucking tell you, doll. _I. Don't. Want. You._ I don't want you, I sure as fuck don't love you, so what more do you want me to say? Is this not _real_ enough for you?"

Even as he screamed his throat hoarse, Negan felt an ache in his heart that he thought he would never feel again, not after Lucille. A flash of hurt crossed Georgia's tawny brown eyes, and then she spat at his face, "Fuck you, Negan."

He quickly wiped the spittle off. Red seeped into his vision, and then nothing. The next thing he knew, his palm was stinging slightly, hanging limp by his side. Georgia stood there, holding a hand to her face. Her cheek was beginning to turn an angry red.

The reality of what he'd done hit him like a freight train. He tried to come forward but his apology was stuck in his throat.

"I get it now," she said, voice heavy with betrayal. "You're the only one who can touch me, right?"

She didn't say more. She didn't have to.

The door creaked open behind him. He heard Derek say something in greeting and then mention that Georgia was needed elsewhere, that Eugene had requested her presence very specifically. And he heard Georgia murmur an "excuse me", felt her slip past him and out the door.

He felt her slipping right through his fingertips.

* * *

Plan A had gone to shit as soon as the tiger pounced on Diego. That first moment was the only moment of clarity Negan had been given, and all he thought was: where the fuck had they gotten a tiger?

Everything was pure, unadulterated chaos after that. Gunshots rang in the air, one pulled trigger after another. The Alexandrians were hustling to get to their guns; Ezekiel's cavalry continued forward atop their horses; and it was to Negan's disappointment that his people were being gunned down left and right. There was no chance of winning at that time. He knew they'd have to fight another day.

He grabbed the nearest Savior and began sprinting to the trucks. Any other Savior who saw them would just have to be smart enough to follow. They couldn't wait.

Negan got to the trucks before Rick's people did. Quickly, he shoved Jerry into the driver's seat and climbed into the passenger side. "GO!"

Soon, they had left the Alexandrians in the dust. Negan threw his middle finger up into the air, just in case Rick the Prick was watching them go. It was the only revenge he was likely to get at the moment.

The car ride back to Sanctuary was filled with tense silence. His people were undoubtedly expecting him to start firing off sparks of rage, maybe even throw a fit, but it wasn't the time. After pounding his fist three time onto the dashboard, _hard_ , Negan grew quiet. Jerry knew him enough to deduce that he was deep in thought.

Negan was the last one out of the trucks when they got back to Sanctuary. The men who had accompanied him to Alexandria, along with the others who hadn't, were waiting for him in the courtyard. They looked just as pissed as he was. Good.

His eyes scanned the crowd, feeding off the grit of the men and women who worked for him; who were loyal _to him_ … And, with a sinking feeling in his gut, he realized that one strawberry blonde head was missing from their ranks.

"Where's Georgia?" he said.

Heads turned, foreheads creased, and eyes scanned the warm bodies standing beside them, looking to see whether the tawny-eyed woman was there. A low murmur of unease rose from the crowd when they found, the same moment Negan did, that she was nowhere within the walls of Sanctuary.

"WHERE'S GEORGIA?" he repeated, silencing the crowd.

"She ain't here," said Dwight; the reluctance to state that bittersweet truth was clear in his voice. "You know what that means, Negan."

Of course he fucking did. Any Savior who hadn't escaped Alexandria was dead; there was no doubt in Negan's mind about that. Rick the Prick was looking to subtract Negan's men from the war equation as much as possible. He wasn't going to take any hostages. He didn't know any better.

It was like a brick wall had been dropped right on top of him. The air left his lungs in one big rush. He felt numb… but he couldn't let his men see how one loss could affect him so. He needed to keep his balls, now more than ever. With no small amount of effort, Negan raised his chin and squared his shoulders, adopting his usual stance and donning the grin, a mask, that the people of Sanctuary knew all too well.

"Everyone in the compound is gathered here," Dwight said. "All the arrangements have already been made beforehand. We were ready for this."

An icy claw gripped Negan's heart. "Georgia's work, I'm guessing?"

"She said to be prepared for anything. You say the word and we're ready to go."

"That's good." Rick, Alexandria, the Hilltop, the Kingdom – they had all made a big fucking mistake. Negan faced Dwight, pinning him with a stare that would have made lesser men quiver in fear. He gripped Lucille even tighter in his hand, the one true thing he had left. "Dwighty boy," he said. "We're going to war."


	7. Off Road

**The text in this chapter and the next will be Italicized because... well, that'll be explained in the next chap (where Negan and Georgia will finally shag! Yay!)**

 **Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. Otherwise, enjoy!**

* * *

 _"Oh_ hell _yes!"_

 _Georgia hurried over to the overturned car, one of many on the abandoned back alley that they'd come across during that run. The car's windows were already broken; Georgia, after checking if it was safe, put her arm through and took the baseball cap out of the passenger side. It was navy blue with a cursive letter_ W _written in white at the front – in support of the Washington Nationals, probably._

 _More excited than she'd been in a while, she pulled the cap onto her head and rushed to catch up with the rest of the group. They were searching through the trunks of cars and trucks, despite the very low likelihood of finding something. Her new head accessory wasn't overlooked; a good number of them just acknowledged it with a raised brow or a quick snort, but it was Negan who seemed most delighted by it, perhaps even more than Georgia herself._

 _"Hot damn!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, I'm more of a Giants man myself, but you do look fucking good in baseball gear, doll."_

 _Georgia scoffed. "_ Giants _?"_

 _"If only cuz they had the greatest center fielder of all time."_

 _"Which was?"_

 _"Willie Mays, obviously."_

 _"Obviously!" Again, Georgia scoffed. "_ Obviously _, the greatest center fielder of all time_ wasn't _Willie Mays. It was Mickey Mantle."_

 _It soon became clear that neither of them were going to back down. Negan, as experienced as he was, still made sure to keep a close eye on their surroundings as well as his men; but when he saw that everything was in place, he proceeded to lecture Georgia on how The Say Hey Kid was better than The Mick. She, in turn, challenged his every word._

 _"Willie could steal more bases than Mickey ever could," he said._

 _"That's just because Mickey had bad legs. He was scared he would injure them – but he could still run faster than Mays! And besides, could Willie bat with his left hand?"_

 _"Being ambidextrous doesn't fucking mean you're a better player, doll." Negan sneered. "Willie had 660 homeruns, while Mantle had – what, 500 plus?_ Weak _."_

 _"Willie only had more homeruns because he played longer. And Mickey was pronounced one of the best hunters in the game; Mays wasn't."_

 _"Willie had intuition that Mantle could only fucking dream about, doll – and yeah, sure, Mickey was quick as a fucking cheetah, but he didn't have that killer instinct that Willie had when it came to getting the jump on the ball."_

 _Another case flashed across Georgia's mind, one that was undoubtedly petty and trivial when it came to statistics, but it was sure to get him to shut up, and that was all she really wanted at that moment. "And how many championships has Willie Mays' team won?"_

 _Negan's eyes narrowed into slits. He probably knew what she was getting to, but, through gritted teeth, he answered anyway, "One."_

 _"The Yankees have won seven." Shrugging, Georgia walked off and over to Dwight, who was at the moment trying to unlock the latch of a semitrailer. She could feel Negan's eyes burning holes into the back of her head. She did her best to stamp down on her growing smugness and instead offered to break the lock on the trailer using her bat._

 _The latch gave way easily enough. Dwight pushed the door up. In his eagerness, he had thrown all caution to the wind; his gun remained hanging by his side. Before the door was even all the way up, a Roamer walked out of the opening, catching Dwight by surprise as it landed on top of him on the way to the ground._

 _Georgia was quick to swing her bat. The Roamer was forced to the side, off of Dwight, where she proceeded to give its head a double tap. From within the trailer, two more Roamers appeared from behind stacks of cardboard boxes. Georgia helped Dwight to his feet, yet before any of the Saviors could gun down the danger, Negan suddenly stepped up, whistling as he swung his bat._

 _"Back up," he barked. There was that glint of danger in his eyes, always present whenever he was taking down a Roamer, but there was a hint of mischievousness as well. "Watch how it's done, Mickey."_

 _With pursed lips, Georgia stood back, like the rest of them, while Negan took care of the two remaining Roamers. Four well-placed swings and the dead were lifeless on the ground, as they should have been. Negan whipped around, smirking right at Georgia; she was startled to realize that she'd practically been_ ogling _him all the while._

 _He had opted to leave his leather jacket back at Sanctuary, as the days had started to become hot again. A thin white shirt, made even thinner because of his sweat, barely left anything to the imagination. His lean yet strong figure was made ever more prominent as he'd swung Lucille, muscles shifting and rolling with each attack. Georgia had been all but transfixed, until he turned his gaze to her, at which point she regained enough sense to look away._

 _"Think there's anything good in there?" said Joey – he used to be called Thin Joey, so there would be no confusion between him and Fat Joey, but since the latter had passed, there was no harm in calling him by his real name anymore._

 _Georgia kicked one of the three Roamers they'd killed. "They're freshly turned," she said. "If they survived being locked in there for so long, then they must have had something to survive on."_

 _"Then how'd they die if they didn't starve?"_

 _"Probably ran out of air. No holes whatsoever in here." She had jumped into the semi by then, quickly tearing into one of the few boxes that had been left sealed. Sure enough, inside were rows of canned goods piled on top of each other. "Food," she called out._

 _"Dwight, go check if you can get this one running," Negan ordered._

 _Georgia watched the right-hand man enter the driver's seat. Most probably, there would be no keys. She wasn't sure if Negan was planning on hotwiring it every time they used it, but she was in no position to argue. Still, she threw him a rather dubious look. She hadn't meant for him to catch it, but catch it he did. He walked over to her, closer than was necessary. She tried her best to ignore the sheer masculinity of him and pretended to be cleaning the pieces of flesh off of her bat._

 _"You should really fucking wear gloves for that, doll."_

 _She hummed. "Like you?"_

 _"It helps with better grip." He swung his bat, as if in demonstration. "Keeps you from getting any splinters, too."_

 _"My hands are good so far. I think I can manage without."_

 _She was just about to go check on Dwight when Negan suddenly grabbed her wrist. She threw him a sharp look, part warning and part curiosity. He laid her hand palm up on his, still covered in Roamer blood, and promptly felt around with his pointer finger. Georgia hadn't been lying when she'd said that she could manage without gloves, but she couldn't deny that so many years of handling her bat bare-handed had given way for rough skin. But Negan's hands were rough as well; it apparently made for an interesting combination that left her feeling rather light-headed._

 _Clearing her throat, Georgia pulled her hand away. She didn't miss the knowing sparkle in his eye. "You're an awful flirt today," she remarked. "Didn't get to screw any of your wives before leaving, did you?"_

 _"Unfortunately, I did not." He smirked. "But that ain't my only reason—"_

 _He never got to finish. Ahead of them, just past the bumper of the semitrailer, there was a scream. Not one of alarm, not one of caution, but one of such abject terror that Georgia knew the owner of such a sound had no hope of survival. Dwight quickly pulled out of the driver's seat. Chad was running towards them – "It's a herd!" he was screaming – but before he could reach them, four Roamers unexpectedly popped out of the foliage that bordered the back alley they were on, converging on him so quickly that he didn't even get to fire his gun._

 _"SHIT!" Negan cursed. "_ Who the fuck was on guard duty _?"_

 _Thin Joey had, in fact, been the one on guard duty. They all knew it; he was a lazy piece of shit and had undoubtedly been the first to die among them. It was for this reason that he never got to warn them about the herd that was coming in from the west._

 _By unspoken agreement, Negan, Georgia, and Dwight, along with Bruce, Johnny, and Vince, turned around and began the sprint back to their truck. Georgia was at the rear, trailing just behind Negan. The herd was falling in steady amounts now. There was a steep incline at the side of the alley, beginning just where the forest broke off; this was where the Roamers came from, losing their balance and practically landing on the Saviors' feet. The path wasn't at all wide._

 _Consequently, this was how Georgia found her path blocked, first by two Roamers, and then five. The fall from the slope hadn't disabled them from crawling towards her. It was too risky to jump over them, even riskier to circle around. She raised her head. Dwight and the others were already several feet away, so close to the truck. But where was Negan…?_

 _Georgia made to turn around when one of the Roamers snagged her ankle. She broke her fall with her hands, no doubt skinning them in the process. Cursing, she kicked and swung her bat wildly at the Roamer that had caught her foot. And then suddenly someone was grabbing her arms._

 _"Fuck!_ Get off _me you son of a—"_

 _"Shut it! We have to get the fuck out of here!"_

 _Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Negan?"_

 _"Who the fuck else? Come on!"_

 _Struggling to regain her senses, Georgia gripped his arm tightly as they ran. The Roamers were coming in from all sides by then, all except one._

" _The fence!" said Georgia, pointing at the chain link wall that was adjacent from the forest. "None of them are coming from there." The walls of a building hid anything else beyond it from sight. Negan shook his head in doubt._

" _It could be a dead end—"_

" _There's nowhere else to go!"_

 _After a moment, he saw that for himself. Everything a few feet from where they stood up to the semitrailer full of goods was crawling with the dead by then. One bold Roamer came up to Negan, snarling. He dealt with it easily enough and all but shoved Georgia towards the fence. "Start climbing, doll!"_

 _She did. She climbed like the hordes of hell were chasing her off the ground. Upon reaching the top, however, she came across an unfortunate obstacle._

" _Barbed wire," she muttered in disbelief. The very thing she used as a weapon had come back to haunt her, and in the most opportune moment possible._

 _Negan was kicking at the Roamers below them. "Shit doesn't really work."_

 _The impatience was clear in his voice. Without waiting for him to say more, Georgia got as high up on the fence as she possibly could before throwing her leg over. The barbed wire, luckily, wasn't sharp enough to cut through her jeans. She jumped down, quickly backing up from the fence where the Roamers had begun reaching through with their grubby fingers._

 _After several tense moments and more than a few cuss words, Negan dropped down beside her. They stared dead straight at the Roamers._

" _I've never seen so many," Georgia said in a hushed murmur, afraid that any unnecessary noise might rile them up even more. "You think the fence will hold?"_

" _Let's not fucking wait and find out." Negan glanced around and pointed further down the fence. "There. Let's see what we can see."_

 _It was a stairway that led to the roof of the building. They began making their way towards it, calmly but swiftly, making sure to stay far enough away from the fence. It looked like it wasn't going to give way any time soon, but neither Georgia nor Negan wanted to take any chances._

 _There was a hole in the roof. The whole thing looked pretty unstable – wet, moldy, probably corroded beyond belief. Negan and Georgia, after sharing a knowing glance, stuck to walking on the sides, where the foundation was sure to be steadier. When they had reached the other side of the hole, and could see what lay beyond the building, Georgia shook her head._

" _You've got to be shitting me."_

 _Negan laughed aloud. "What, you don't like carnivals?"_

" _Carnivals mean clowns, and I fucking hate clowns."_

 _He got uncharacteristically quiet, then. Georgia had thought for sure that he was going to tease her for that latest reveal of her person. Curious, she stole a glance and saw that he was staring intently ahead, though not at the view, she suspected. There was a crease on his forehead that suggested he was deep in thought; it disappeared moments later, the same time he said, "Someone's been here before."_

" _What?"_

" _This place has been cleared."_

 _Frowning, Georgia turned her attention to vast expanse of land that sat before them. There were a handful of colorful tents, even some trailers that might have been food trucks once, all of which were most likely abandoned. Scattered evenly around the area were a variety of rides – Balloon Race, a Carousel, a Disk'O, a rollercoaster (however sad of an excuse it may have been) and, to Georgia's delight, a Ferris wheel. But in the handful of minutes that they'd just stood there, she had not seen a single Roamer ambling about. They had all been killed._

" _Rick?"_

" _Don't I know it," Negan muttered. "He was looking for something."_

 _She caught on to his thought process quickly enough._ Supplies, food… guns. _"Do you think he found them?"_

" _He must have. Prick as he very well may be, he doesn't seem like a guy who'd fucking clear out a carnival full of Roamers just cuz he wanted to."_

 _He got quiet again, which meant he was deep in thought – again. Georgia considered just leaving him alone; maybe sitting down to take in the view, but a better idea crossed her mind. It would require disturbing Negan, though, which she wasn't so sure that she should do. She shrugged; she could go on her own. He was always welcome to follow._

 _Georgia approached the gaping hole in the roof and looked down. There was a cushion below. From what she could hear, no Roamers seemed to be hiding anywhere. She was just about to jump down when Negan's voice reached her: "What the fuck are you doing?"_

" _I'm gonna go check out the Ferris wheel."_

"Why _?"_

" _Because Dwight's probably not coming back for us, not today. It's getting dark and they know better than to go out after dark. They won't do it… not even for you." She looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged. "And, I'm bored. So are you coming or not?"_

* * *

 _If someone had told her, five months ago, that she was going to be sitting at the top of a Ferris wheel watching the sunset with_ Negan _, she would have told them to suck dick elsewhere. The two of them had been sitting there for more than ten minutes and she still couldn't wrap her head around the situation. She settled for enjoying the view._

 _They were even higher up than when they'd been standing on the roof of that building. Georgia could see from miles around – the decrepit skyscrapers, the murky lakes, the dull and cracked highways, and the overgrown shrubbery as far as the eye could see. She couldn't call it_ depressing _anymore; she had been living in such an environment for the better part of three years. That may not have been such a long time in the Old World, but when every day was a constant fight for survival, time passed slower. She could hardly remember what everything had looked like before the world had ended._

 _It wasn't depressing anymore. It was reality._

" _You ever been?" Negan asked, breaking the precious silence between them._

 _She frowned. "Been where?"_

" _New York. You're obviously a huge Yankees fan if you know all those facts about Mickey fucking Mantle. You ever been to the Big Apple?"_

" _No," she muttered. "I know it's not a long way out, but I used to be so focused on finishing med school and taking care of my mom… and my brother, and my sister."_

 _There was a sympathetic grunt from Negan. "Dad walked out on ya?"_

" _No, he was home. We always wished he wasn't though. Things were always better when he wasn't drinking in the living room."_

 _That was enough of a hint. And Negan was smart. Soon, he had moved closer to her, staring at her with hard eyes. He didn't say anything for a while. He just stared. Georgia let him. Then, enough time passed for him to have calmed down a bit. "Asshole," that was all he said._

You got that right. _She sighed. "We should probably find somewhere to hole up in for the night."_

 _Unexpectedly, he pointed at some building that sat between the Balloon Race and the Carousel. It looked like a diner of sorts. "There's probably a shit chance of finding any food there, but it'll be closed off, safe, right?"_

 _Georgia smiled. "Right."_

* * *

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated. I try to reply to them as much as I can. :)**

 **P.S. I don't really know anything about American baseball - or just baseball in general - apart from having played it on the Kinect. Georgia and Negan seem like the kind of people who would be obsessed with it, though. That being said, my descriptions of Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle in this chapter are purely objective - for me, at least. Still, I'll apologize in advance for giving Negan and Georgia what may have either been popular or unpopular opinions.**


	8. Off Road (Part 2)

**THEY FINALLY DO THE DO YA PERVS HAHAHAHA**

 **Warning: smut lay ahead, possibly badly written, possibly not. I finished this at 4am. Please forgive any spelling mistakes or grammar errors, or if the smut is bad. This is only my second attempt at writing lime. (Anything for my bbys Negan and Georgia to be happy ahurhur.)**

 **Enjoy. ;)**

 **update, 12/25/2017: just fixed some small mistakes during the lemon merry christmas HAHAH**

* * *

 _Georgia knew that neither of them had eaten anything since breakfast._

 _After they boarded up the windows, leaving only a small gap so they could keep tabs on whatever was going on outside, she and Negan did a thorough search of the diner, hoping beyond hope that Rick and his minions had overlooked at least a pack of crackers. There was no such luck._

 _Ultimately, Georgia found herself lying on one of the cleaner booths of the diner. Her feet were propped up on the wall and her head hung at the edge of the seat. Negan had placed himself on the counter, an arm beneath his head while the other played with one of the light fixtures that hung low above him. Georgia absently watched him for a while. Every little thing he did seemed infinitely more interesting while the world was upside-down, or perhaps she was just hungrier and more bored than she let on._

" _What would you kill for right now?" she asked in an effort to distract herself from her grumbling stomach. Negan's head tilted towards her; she craned her neck so she could stare at the black-and-white tiled floor. (It was one of those retro diners, complete with bubblegum stuck to the bottom of the tables.)_

 _A smirk tugged at the corner of Negan's lips. "Are you sure you want an answer to that?"_

" _Fine. Whatever. Just keep talking to me."_

" _I didn't know you liked my voice that fucking much, doll." She sent him a glare, which only added fuel to the fire. His eyes narrowed slightly, playfully, and he said, "You know what I'd kill for? An ice-cold beer and a_ nice, long fuck _."_

 _Georgia rolled her eyes and sat up. She moved to sit cross-legged on the table, tucking her feet close to her with her hands, if only to hide the sudden warmth that travelled down her stomach and settled between her thighs._

 _She'd kill herself before she admitted it, but she_ did _like Negan's voice – low, rough, and husky – and coupled with the obscene idea that he'd just put in her head, it was all she could do not to jump him. He was hot as all hell, he knew it, and so did she, but that was a line she wasn't sure she wanted to cross yet._

" _Typical guy needs, of course," she hummed with false indifference._

 _That smug little half-smile never left his face. "How about you, doll? What would you kill for right now?"_

" _Music," she replied, not missing a beat. "And not that ghetto shit you keep playing back in the compound. I want real music."_

 _Her eyes strayed to the old, dusty jukebox that sat in the corner of the diner. It was impossible to get it to work, since the generators had run out of juice long before even Rick had arrived._

" _And you see real music as?" Negan asked._

" _The blues, jazz, maybe some alternative… country."_

 _His eyebrow shot up. "Taylor Swift?"_

" _What?_ No _!" That got a laugh from him. It was infectious. "More like… I don't know, Chris Stapleton."_

" _Carrie Underwood?"_

 _She grinned. "Hank Williams, if you could believe it."_

" _Rascal Flatts?"_

" _Shakey Graves."_

" _Whoever the fuck that is," he grumbled with a small chuckle. "Hm… Kenny Chesney?"_

 _At this, she leaned forward and said with as much conviction as she could muster: "Michael Buble."_

" _Now_ that _guy I know. Doesn't he have that one song about you?"_

 _She rolled her eyes. "It's a cover, but yes, he has that one song about me."_

" _How does it go again?_ Georgia, Georgia… I spent a day with you— _"_

" _That is so not how it goes!" Georgia all but shrieked, laughing as she said it. He'd been impossibly off-tune. "I'd like my view of that song to stay as clean and as beautiful as possible, so just stop right there please!"_

" _What? I think I was doing a pretty good job._ Just an old sweet song— _"_

" _Negan!"_

 _He trailed off with a laugh, and Georgia couldn't help it; she began laughing as well. Soon, she was lying on her side with her feet still tucked beneath her, clutching her stomach. Her cheeks ached, a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time._

 _When she opened her eyes, the world was upside-down again. But she didn't fail to notice the way Negan was looking at her. She recognized that expression immediately. It was the same look on her brother's face whenever he looked at his girlfriend that one time he'd brought her home._

 _Georgia held Negan's gaze, however discomforting it may have been – it felt like he was staring into her soul – and she was soon lost in thought._

 _The two of them had been through a lot of shit. Granted, they may have not been through a lot of shit_ together _, but the world had toughened them up. Georgia saw Negan as a kindred soul more than anything. Still, she'd be lying if she said that she never had any late night thoughts about him. She had more of those than she cared to admit._

 _She thought about how his stubble had felt beneath her fingers when she'd been ordered to shave his face. She thought about his voice – a lot. She thought about what he did to his wives, what he_ could _do with_ her _—_

" _What are you thinking about, doll?" he asked, snapping her out of her reverie._

" _War." It was only a half-lie, because in the span of time it took for him to ask that question, her thoughts had wandered rather violently._

 _The sun had set by then. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. She could barely see him, but she heard him scoff. "A bit sinister for a conversation in a fucking amusement park, ain't it, doll?"_

" _Sorry."_

" _What brought it up?"_

 _She nodded to where she presumed the entrance was. "You saw the dead littered outside. They're military. They would've had guns."_

" _There's a chance they didn't."_

" _Negan, even you're smarter than that. I'd bet my right fucking arm that they did, and that Rick got them, and that he's planning an attack right now."_

" _You think I don't already fucking know that?"_

 _There was a dangerous edge in his voice, now. Georgia hurriedly tried to remedy the situation, continuing in a softer voice. "I'm just saying that we've got a lot of enemies, Negan. We need to be more careful, now more than ever."_

 _A pause. When he spoke again, she could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "_ We _?"_

 _Georgia didn't hesitate to scowl, knowing that he wouldn't see something so subtle. She should never have used that word. There was no we, not between just the two of them – there were only the Saviors, all of whom were Negan, including her. He must have noticed something in her silence, though. In the dimness of the room, she vaguely saw his form drop down from the counter and make its way across the aisle._

 _She shifted into a proper sitting position, with her legs hanging off the edge of the table. She raised her head to meet his gaze._

" _You looking out for me, doll?"_

" _Who else is gonna do it?" A bit of annoyance flashed across his eyes. Georgia scoffed. "No offense, Negan, but there's too many people who want your head on a platter. You need someone watching your back. Dwight sure as fuck ain't doing it, Simon's your right hand man but I'm pretty sure he's had his eyes on Josie for a while now."_

 _His eyebrow shot up. Incensed, he took a step closer so that he was standing between her knees. "No shit?"_

" _I don't think he's actually done anything about it, but I'd keep an eye on him… He freaks me out a little, to be honest."_

" _He touch you?"_

 _Before she could reassure him that no, Simon had not touched her, Negan's thumb was suddenly trailing down her cheek – feather light and yet his nail scratched her skin oh so slightly, sending shivers down her spine. The pad of his thumb stopped at her chin, so close to her lips that she could plant a kiss on it if she so wanted._

" _Why do you care?" she whispered. The first thing that had popped into her head. She could barely think. His close proximity, however not entirely unexpected, was so sudden that it clouded her thoughts._

" _I told you before," he said, equally quiet. "I'm the only one allowed to ever fucking touch you, remember?"_

 _As if to prove his point, he moved his hand down, past her chin and down her throat. It settled on the junction of her neck and shoulder, with his thumb resting just on the hollow of her collar bone. His touch was like fire, burning through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, licking at the muscle and skin underneath. Georgia took a shaky breath._

 _This action – fortunately or unfortunately, she couldn't be sure – left her mouth open for plundering. She realized her mistake as soon as Negan craned his neck, moving his face ever closer to hers, close enough that they were practically breathing the same air. Georgia closed her eyes, expecting the kiss to come full force – they had waited too long, had killed too much time._

 _But when it came, it came gently, like wind rustling through trees._

 _His lips were soft, as warm as any part of him. Both his hands came up to cup her face, and for a while, there was nothing more to it. Just the lightness of his mouth on hers._

 _When it ended, his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, but his eyes trailed all across her face, flitting from one pale corner to the next. As if he wasn't sure. As if he was looking for something._

 _Whatever it was, he must have found it. That familiar sparkle appeared in his eye. His lips turned upwards to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth. Georgia took in another shaky breath. She didn't realize her mistake until he had attacked once again._

 _Negan began kissing her, properly – firmly and deeply. His tongue, which she had seen peeking out of the corner of his lips_ so many times _, explored her mouth. He tasted like smoke, sweet smoke… Bourbon, she decided. He was kissing her so thoroughly that her toes curled and the heels of her feet dug into the back of his knees. Her hands, unable to keep still, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer._

 _The inside of her thighs touched the front of his jeans. A long sigh escaped her lips. Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against the unmistakable hardness that was growing beneath his jeans. But the moment he began imitating the motion, his hand pressing against the small of her back, she firmly pushed him away._

" _Shit, doll," he hissed, and though there was definitely some concern in his eyes, he sounded more annoyed than apologetic. "You alright? What's the matter?"_

" _We can't do this."_

 _He sighed heavily. "And why the fuck not?"_

" _I can't be one of your wives. I won't."_

" _Georgia." She heard the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. "After all this time, you fucking think I'd still put you in the same goddamn boat as them? You ain't ever been just_ one of them _, and you never will be."_

 _He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mouth, and she expected him to stay there, but he didn't. His lips began a trail downwards, from her chin to below her jaw, to where her shoulder met her neck. He lavished the skin there with kisses and licks and nibbles. Georgia's hand curled around his hair again. A part of her wanted to keep him there until morning, but a greater part managed to convince her otherwise._

 _She tugged his mouth away from her neck and steeled her gaze._

" _I won't be your whore."_

 _Some kind of realization dawned on him at that moment. She couldn't be sure exactly what it was, but the change in his eyes was immediate. The lust remained evident in his dilated pupils, but there was something else behind the hazel eyes that she had grown so fond of, something more profound that she couldn't put her finger on._

" _Never," he said._

 _And then he had latched onto her neck just as quickly as he had gone. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She wasn't sure if it was his statement or his persistence, but she finally threw all caution to the wind._

 _Georgia threw her head back, baring her throat to him. As Negan kissed and licked, she became aware of his hands gripping her thighs. He ground his hips against hers, creating wonderful friction between her legs. They both knew it wasn't enough. Breathless, Georgia untangled her fingers from his hair and set to unbuckling his pants._

 _A small groan began in his throat. Georgia smirked lightly. She may or may not have intentionally grazed him, but she had a small inkling what effect she had on him. It was intoxicating – knowing that he could kill her any time but he didn't because he_ wanted _her, perhaps just as much as she wanted him._

 _She gave his hair a slight tug and her lips crashed against his._

 _She finally managed to get his zipper down. Without wasting any more time, she slipped her hand into his jeans and easily found his member, hard and slick with his excitement. His jaw fell slack with his surprise and Georgia took the opportunity to move her lips to his neck. She slowly started pumping his shaft – down, up, twist, down, up, twist. His breathing turned heavy but he was not one to be outdone._

 _His hands travelled to the hem of her shirt. His fingers, warm and calloused, slipped past the thin material and quickly found her breasts. Georgia sighed in contentment when he began squeezing them, massaging her nipples past the fabric of her bra._

 _Negan wasn't as forgiving as she had been. With a low growl of annoyance, he pulled her shirt over her head, taking her new baseball cap with it. He then deftly removed her bra in what felt like a singular movement._

 _Georgia squeaked in surprise and immediately covered her breasts. "Negan!"_

" _What?"_

" _Someone could come in here and see us!"_

" _While it's dark out? And with that herd in the way? I don't think so. Now come on, doll. Let me look at you… Oh, fuck yes…"_

 _Georgia would be lying if she said that she didn't like the way he licked his lips when she uncrossed her arms, revealing her bare chest to his appreciative gaze. Immediately he bent down and captured a nipple between his lips, causing her to moan in pleasured surprise. Her hand faltered with its motions inside his jeans, but he didn't seem to mind. He was sucking on first one breast, and then the other, like a newborn babe._

 _She barely noticed it when he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down. It dawned on her only when his fingers slipped past her panties and found that swollen nub settled just so between her folds. He pressed down. She had to move her hand elsewhere in fear of gripping his cock too hard. Consequently, her hand found the hard muscle of his waist, and it was this that she latched onto for dear life._

 _His fingers worked her to the point of delirium – so good to have her toes curling but not enough to send her over the edge. Moments later he had pulled her pants off completely. He guided her onto her back and his hands on the insides of her thighs kept her legs spread almost obscenely wide._

 _She knew she was practically dripping onto the tabletop. Negan's smug grin assured her of that._

" _Take your shirt off," she breathed, aware that she was completely naked and he wasn't._

 _He obliged, tugging his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. He was all lean muscle, as she'd expected, with just the perfect amount of salt and pepper hair on his chest that had Georgia's mouth watering. She wanted to touch him, but before she could do anything else, he grabbed her thighs again and tugged. Her backside rested on the very edge of the tabletop._

" _Sorry, doll. This can't fucking wait," he said, grinning. "I've got to taste you. Now."_

 _Georgia watched as he got down to his knees. His hands were on the insides of her thighs, his thumbs so close to where she wanted them to be. Negan craned his neck. She felt him breathing on her. She released a small whimper of anticipation._

 _And then his mouth was on her,_ and it was glorious _._

 _She barely managed to muffle a scream into her palm. When she did, though, Negan quickly shoved her hand away._

" _Nothin's coming in here tonight, doll. I wanna hear you scream."_

 _He licked a long stripe from her entrance, gathering her juices, all the way up to her clit. He sucked, and she didn't hold back the cry of ecstasy that erupted from her throat._

 _His beard rubbed against the inside of her thighs as he laid the flat of his tongue against her clit and moved side to side. A new surge of wetness came leaking out of her and he was there at her entrance in a heartbeat, sticking his tongue into her and scooping out all she had to give._

 _He was eating her out like a starved man. The sounds he made certainly suggested precisely that – moans and groans, and long sighs of contentment that vibrated against her cunt, causing her to choke on her own breaths._

 _When he moved up to her clit again, she felt him push two fingers into her._

 _Two was all he ever needed. He didn't go slow. His hand was a blur as he pushed his fingers in and out of her, curling and uncurling them in a rhythm that she couldn't fathom. By that time he had left her clit well enough alone, but his palm was facing upwards and each piston of his hand caused the heel of his palm to collide with her sensitive nub._

" _Shit," Georgia whimpered. "Negan, I'm gonna—"_

 _She never got to finish. Her orgasm crashed into her quicker than she'd anticipated, sending her reeling into oblivion. He didn't stop. He kept licking and sucking and moaning and fucking her with his tongue until she came a second time in less than five minutes._

 _Her breaths came out in harsh gasps. Her skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat from the summer night air. When she had calmed down enough, she opened her eyes, glazed over, and looked down._

 _Negan gazed up at her from between her thighs, looking like a kid who had just gotten an early Christmas present. "That was fucking beautiful, doll," he said._

 _He trailed kisses up her stomach, pausing at the inked text just beneath her left breast. It read:_ What a prize you are. What a lucky sack of stars.

" _I didn't have you pegged as the poetic type," he murmured against her breast, sucking lightly on the nipple while his fingers traced the tattoo._

 _Georgia shuddered. "I'm just full of surprises."_

 _She felt him grin against her skin, and then she felt him place the tip of his cock right at her entrance, slicking himself up. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him up to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips, asserting dominance when she hadn't been able to before._

 _Sometime in the middle of it, he removed the band that was holding her hair up. Her strawberry blonde locks came tumbling down her shoulders and he gripped the back of her head, almost desperately. As she was sucking on his lower lip, he pushed into her._

 _Her jaw fell slack. A soft mewl fell from her lips. "Fuck!"_

 _Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she saw the crease on his forehead, his open mouth, and the immense pleasure in his gaze as he stared at her. He began thrusting. Little pinpricks of light erupted behind her eyelids. She removed her grip from his head, transferring it to the edge of the tabletop. He straightened up, grinned briefly, and began fucking her in earnest._

 _The motions of his hips made her toes curl. Already she could feel her third orgasm coming and he didn't look anywhere near close, but his bliss was unmistakable. She took in the sight of him – sweaty and breathless and taking pleasure in_ her _. Her muscles clenched._

" _That's it, doll," he hissed, delighted. "Come on. Come for me."_

 _Georgia couldn't have refused him even if she tried. The sound of his skin slapping against hers became even slicker as she came, a choked scream of his name escaping her lips as Negan found her clit and began rubbing, prolonging her rapture. He soon pulled his hand away, instead slipping it beneath her and pushing against the small of her back._

 _She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs going in the same fashion around his hips. And Georgia hadn't thought it possible but he began pounding into her even harder._

 _Her clit was oversensitive to the point of pain and she grappled at his shoulders, trying to make him stop, but he held her tight against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, the flesh of her butt molded into his hands._

" _Negan," she whimpered. "I c-can't…"_

" _Yeah you can, doll." He said it through gritted teeth. He was close. "I know you've got one more in there just for me. One more. Come on, Georgia… That's it…"_

 _Georgia clung so hard to him she thought she may never be able to let go. One of his fingers grazed against her clit. And incredibly, impossibly, she felt herself fall apart once more. Her jaw hung open in a silent scream. Her vision dimmed._

 _She barely noticed when Negan pulled out, and the thick, hot jets of white liquid that streamed across her stomach. Her body felt light, almost numb, in its afterglow. She was vaguely aware of the warm body she was pressed against planting light kisses on her neck. He was smiling._

" _You alright?" he asked and she could only hum in reply, unable to form words. His smile widened. "Why didn't we do this sooner?"_

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her cell door being unlocked, rather noisily.

The door swung open and sunlight filtered in from outside, blinding her momentarily. When the spots disappeared, a tray had been placed before her. The usual: bread, some meat, and a glass of water. Georgia eyed the meal with distrust. She knew in her heart that Rick was keeping her alive for a reason, not just out of the kindness of his heart. In the New World, there were always ulterior motives, no matter what anyone said.

Sighing, she raised her head and met the eyes of the Prick himself.

"You gonna tell us anything yet?" he said.

"You should just kill me." Her stare hardened into one of cold amusement. "Negan doesn't give two shits about me. You're wasting your time."

He stayed for a while longer, never moving, never sitting down. Just staring. She never faltered. And in the end, as was routine, he was the first to blink.

"No," he said. He snatched the loaf of bread from her plate and left, relocking the door on his way out.

Her chains rattled as Georgia took the tray and placed it on her lap. Rick's people wouldn't keep her alive for as long as they had just to give her poison out of the blue. Rick still believed that she could be used as leverage for Negan, no matter how much she insisted.

And besides, she didn't think they were the type to kill their enemies in the dark.

Resigned, Georgia began eating her meal.

She stared at the far wall, thinking about what Sanctuary's fearless leader could have been doing at that moment, while she was chained up, keeping his secrets for him.

One thing was for sure: war had begun. And one way or another, she was going to see Negan again, either with him storming the castle with guns blazing, or being brought to her in shackles.

* * *

 **I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE NEXT! Please leave a review, perhaps regarding the chapter itself and possible plotlines I could use for upcoming chapters. It's a long way to go before the next season. I need something to tide y'all over HAHAHA.**

 **update, 12/25/2017: I have not, in fact, watched a single episode of the new season and i want to DIE. I might manage to pull something out of my ass and put it up as an update, but I can't really be sure. I'm caught up in my X-Men fic right now, but I'll do my best for y'all!**


	9. Country Roads

**inspired by:**

 **Take Me Home, Country Roads**

 **by John Denver**

 **I still haven't been able to catch up on Season 8, but I plan on watching at least until the fourth episode just to see what's going on with the war. Anyway, happy new year everyone! I hope this chapter, being a filler and all, doesn't suck too bad.**

 ** _The first chunk of this chapter takes a look at the past: the morning after part 2 of Off Road. The second chunk is sort of a flash forward to present times. Negan has retreated back to Sanctuary WITHOUT Georgia, she is locked up, and Dwight has betrayed the Saviors._**

* * *

"Where the fuck are those little shits?"

Georgia sighed. "That was one of the biggest herds I've ever seen, Negan. It'll take a while before they're finished clearing the area."

"It shouldn't be taking them _this_ long."

Negan ran his hand over his face. He was bored out of his mind and wanted nothing more than to jump into a shower and wash two days' worth of grime and blood off himself. He wouldn't mind having a soft bed to sleep on either.

The night had been cold and filled with eerie noises coming from the surrounding forest. Despite all these, Negan would have slept like a babe if it hadn't been for the fitful woman lying beside him on the tabletop. She'd kept tossing and turning and grumbling; it had been impossible for Negan to keep his eyes closed for more than five minutes.

Ultimately, when he had finally gotten tired of it, he'd buried his face between her thighs and licked, sucked, and nibbled until tears were running down her cheeks and she was pulling at his hair hard enough for it to hurt. She'd fallen asleep in seconds just from sheer exhaustion, but not before placing a soft kiss on his chest as he was making his way back up.

Now, Negan saw her agitation return. Georgia began pacing, swinging her bat here and there. Negan watched her as he allowed his thoughts to wander.

He recalled the words they'd had, nothing and no one else to hear them except for the wind, and how stunning she had looked beneath him – hair in disarray, eyes glazed over, and skin glistening in the moonlight. All supple curves and firm muscle and pert breasts tipped with perfect pink nipples. Negan shifted a bit, trying to remove the image from his mind's eye. It wouldn't do to have his men walk in on him with a raging boner.

 _I told you before. I'm the only one allowed to ever fucking touch you, remember?_

Just the thought of anyone else getting their hands on Georgia had him seeing red. And not just rapists like Shaw. _Anyone_ else. Negan wanted to possess her, body and soul, bloody bat and all. He still had her Polaroid; it was in the drawer of his desk, something he could look at when leading the Saviors was beginning to prove too difficult for him. He'd wanted to tape it onto the wall of his room, but he didn't think his wives would take too kindly to seeing their only real competition looking down at them while he fucked them brainless.

 _You ain't ever been just_ one of them _, and you never will be._

Georgia was head and shoulders above his wives – of that, Negan was fucking sure. More than once, he had entertained the idea of just dropping the harem altogether and having Georgia as his one and only. She was qualified for it. And Negan would never let her go.

Thoughts like that scared the shit out of him. He'd thought that the end of the world had changed him, carved those kinds of feelings out of him like meat off a Thanksgiving turkey, but he was wrong. And it terrified him all the more because he hadn't really _felt_ for anyone since Lucille, and Lucille… What would she think?

In a perfect world she'd still be alive, and perhaps she'd even approve of Georgia. The both of them were fierce, strong, confident; didn't take shit from anyone. Two peas in a pod.

But Lucille was gone, and the Sanctuary was all Negan had left – that, and Georgia. He'd be damned if he let Rick the Prick take those away from him. Although, he did wonder: should he tell Georgia about his musings? Would she _want_ to know?

Negan stared at the back of her head, frowning in thought. She had one hand on her hip and the other held her bat propped over her shoulder. Looking forward. Always looking forward. She had said the previous night that she had his back, and he believed her.

He decided it would probably be best to put off his confession (if it could even be called that) until Rick and his goons were dealt with.

 _Before then,_ he thought, the corner of his mouth curling upwards as a gust of wind blew, spreading Georgia's hair rather thinly across the air as the sunlight hit her strands just right, _I've got all I can handle right here._

.

.

.

Dwight stared at the girl lying on the floor of her cell; her eyes were closed and she was even filthier than she was the day she'd turned up at the compound. She was thinner, too, her cheekbones more pronounced the skin around her eyes sunken and grey.

"Have you been feeding her?" he demanded.

Rick shrugged. "Not much. We ain't running a charity, she's gotta understand that. And we need her as weak as possible so that we got any chance at making her turn against Negan."

"She's too stubborn for that." Dwight pursed his lips, shaking his head. "She's a good gal."

"She's brought this on herself." Rick's voice hardened, turning grittier and louder.

Georgia stirred from her sleep, bleary eyes blinking open until they focused and settled on Dwight. Then, they turned ice cold. She kept her mouth shut though; Dwight recalled Rick saying that she seemed to be making it a point not to utter a single word.

Sighing, Dwight crouched in front of the steel bars of her cage and looked at her, staring her hard in the eye. "I bet you'd give anything to claw my eyes out right now."

He waited.

Nothing.

"He's a lost cause, G. He's leading 'em into a bloodbath and he doesn't give a shit."

Her nostrils flared. The ice in her gaze melted, giving way for smoldering fire. "I always knew you were a fucking snake."

"Because it's _Negan!_ " Dwight yelled. "You know he's a monster, Georgia, _you know it_. So what the fuck are you doing _protecting_ him?"

She leaned forward and spoke slowly, as if he was a child, "You may have known him longer, but you don't know him like I do. He's always wanted the best for us, for Sanctuary. And what does he get? Liars and backstabbers."

"He saved you, showed you a better life, made you feel good about yourself. I get that. But it's all a mask, G. You gotta understand that. Beneath it all, he only ever looks out for himself." Dwight leaned in closer, begging for her to see reason. "I've already given Rick the information that he needs. They're gonna attack soon and I want you to be in on it. The rise of the new world. Something better."

She rolled her eyes, then, and laughed haughtily. "Fuck off, Dwight. I'm not Sherry."

Dwight shot to his feet, slamming his palms against the bars in frustration. "Goddammit, G! You think he's coming back for you? He's not. He thinks you're dead. The whole compound does. Stop sticking your head out for him and do something for _yourself_ for once!"

He made to rattle the bars again but Rick quickly pulled him away. "That's enough," he muttered. "Come on. We've got bigger fish to fry."

Dwight turned away without another word, not wanting to look at Georgia for a second longer. She'd always been too headstrong for her own good, but now she didn't have anything to back it up with. No bat, no gun, no Negan. Rick wasn't capable of making her break her oath to Negan, which was a shame. She and Dwight had had some disagreements in the past but he didn't want to see her wilting away in a damp cell.

After everything she'd gone through, she deserved to survive.

And yet, if she refused to turn away from trash like Negan, maybe she didn't.


End file.
